


Reasons to Breathe

by throwupsparkles



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hot Single Dad Pete Wentz, Kid Fic, M/M, Sexual Content, Teacher Patrick Stump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 58,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24542587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: “I’m Patrick,” he says, still smiling, “I’m the music teacher.”“Uh, Pete,” Pete says, holding his daughter like she’s his lifeline. And ok, time to be a grown up and use actual full sentences. “This is Skylar. Wentz. Um, Pete and Skylar Wentz.”****Or another cliche kidfic where single dad Pete falls in love with his daughter's hot music teacher.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 231
Kudos: 195





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I didn't think I'd ever be working on another multi-chapter fic. I've definitely gotten into the niche of writing angsty 20k MCR fics where I kill someone off or someone is really, really sad. But it's time to mix things up! I've been obsessed with Peterick fics lately, so after some long nights reading and some soulful brooding in the shower where I get all my best ideas, I finally bit the bullet and started my own.
> 
> This had no beta and was written with too much sugar in my system, so be gentle.

“Why can’t you wear these shorts?” Pete sighs holding up the denim shorts that he washed last night.

“Because they’re not sparkly,” Skylar huffs, crossing her arms.

Pete fights the urge to roll his eyes--has to remind himself that he’s the adult here-- and opens the dresser drawers in search for the pink sparkly shorts that she’s been adamant about wearing every chance she got. “You can’t wear them everyday to school, the kids will make fun of you for stinking.”

Skylar stomps over, her blond ringlets bouncing with each exaggerated step, and starts pulling clothes out of the drawers.

“Sky, buddy, come on,” Pete groans, “I just folded all those last night.”

Pete can’t tell who’s more on edge this morning, her or him. It’s her first day of school and while he’s going through what his mom swore was a perfectly normal tsunami of emotions, Skylar was nervous and being emotional about everything. And Pete got it, she wanted all her favorite things with her today to comfort her through the new and scary environment. 

His mom had him check out every picture book he could find about first day of school jitters, and he’s pretty sure it just freaked him out more than soothed Skylar. For the first five years of her life, he had spent practically every day with her. He worked from home, doing editing for textbooks, so that he could be at home with her. The thought of sending her to daycare hit him square in the gut. “Lots of parents do it,” his mom had said, but Pete just couldn’t do it. He had signed her up and drove her to the center only to break down crying in the parking lot and drive her back home. 

Pete was definitely one of those helicopter parents. He blames it partly on the fact that he’s a single parent. He always feels like he has to be on top of his game, even more so since he’s a single dad. When his mom had him sign up for a single parent’s support group, he was a little disappointed that it had all been moms who were just angry at men and they either belittled everything he said or acted like he was ready to get into bed with either of them. 

The other issue, and the one that always nagged at the back of his mind, was his own struggle with anxiety. It had gotten better, it _is_ better than before. Pete’s better now. But it’s always there, that fuzzy feeling in his mind. Like brushing a hand across an analog television. And he tries, ok? He tries _really_ hard not to let it bleed all over Skylar and this little cotton candy life Pete’s tried to build her.

“I found them!” Skylar calls from down the hall.

Pete follows her and sighs, taking the shorts. “These have jam all over them, sweetie.”

Skylar just sticks out her bottom lip and Pete gives her a stern look. “You know that I’m just wrapped around your finger don’t you?”

Skylar grins and nods. “And you’re just going to exploit that, aren't you?” Pete grumbles. 

“Esspoit?” She stumbles over.

Pete grins and kisses her forehead. “Alright, let me work my magic. Go pick out what bow you want to wear today. We’re just going to have to do a ponytail today, hon. We’re already running late.”

He hurries to the bathroom and scrubs at the purple stain on the bottom of her shorts. They seriously need to have another talk about using napkins apparently. He grabs a Febreeze bottle and sprays down the shorts while hurrying to Skylar’s bedroom. “Alright, here’s your shorts,” he says, handing her the shorts and darting back into the bathroom to get the brush and a ponytail holder. When he comes back she’s sitting on her bed with the biggest pink bow that she owns. 

Pete shakes his head at her clearly inherited “go big or go home” attitude. He scoops her hair up on top of her head and pins the bow in place. “Alright, munchkin, let’s get going. We still need to go see Uncle Andy before we go to school.”

Getting Skylar in her car seat is always a challenge, especially today. “I can sit up front, Daddy,” She pouts, “I’m big now.”

“Yes, you are very big,” Pete agrees, because that’s what they’ve been saying to get her ready for Kindergarten. Big girls get to go to school and make lots of friends and learn new cool things...and leave daddy behind at home all alone to think about all the horrible things that could happen while she was gone. 

“Daddy,” Skylar huffs, pulling on his hair. 

“Ouch, stop, dork,” Pete says, detaching her hand from his hair. He straps her into her seat and says, “I told you. You only got to sit up front that one day because we were in Uncle Andy’s truck and there were no backseats.”

Skylar crosses her arms again, but Pete forces himself to drop it and get into the driver’s seat or they’ll never get to school. He turns up Metallica and settles into the drive to Andy’s cafe. He knows that there’s a fifty-fifty chance that his music choice is either going to solidify the rockstar life for her, or completely traumatize her. The last time he watched Temple of Doom with her she had nightmares for a week. It’s a balancing act, trying to introduce her to cool shit without scarring her childhood. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the school by now?” Andy asks when Pete strolls in with Skylar on his hip.

“Don’t remind me,” he sighs, setting Skylar down so she can go find the cat, Garbage, that Andy keeps around the cafe. 

Andy smiles at him and starts to pull down espresso shots for Pete’s drink. “How are you holding up?”

“I haven’t cried yet,” Pete says, watching Skylar pet the orange cat that’s laying in the window. “I just don’t understand how five years went by so fast. She’s already going off to school. Soon she’s going to make friends and figure out how lame her dad is.”

Andy snorts. “I’m sure she already knows that.”

Pete rolls his eyes. “Oh god, and then she’s going to start dating soon and asking really hard questions that I don’t even know the answers to.”

“You don’t know where babies come from yet, Wentz? That’s a little worrisome,” Andy chuckles, dumping the espressos into Pete’s cup. 

“No, just relationships in general, dumbass.”  
  
“Daddy, bad word!” Skylar sing-songs.   
  
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, then groans, “This is the beginning of the end, Andy.” 

Andy quirks up an eyebrow. “Maybe I should make your latte a decaf instead.”

Pete narrows his eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

Andy grins and steams the milk, oat milk, and slides it to Pete. “Cake Pop today?”

Skylar squeals and rushes over. “Pink!”

Andy grins and pulls out a pink Cake Pop from the bakery case and hands it to her. “How did I know?”

She takes a bite and grins. “Yours is better than Daddy’s.”

“Oh come on,” Pete says, faking injury, “I spent so long reading those Pinterest recipes!”

“You know why the Cake Pops here are so much better?” Andy asks like it’s a conspiracy.

Skylar looks up at him with wide eyes. “Why?” She whispers.

“Because no cows had to be exploited.”

“Esspoited?” Skylar says, stumbling the same way she had earlier. 

Pete rolls his eyes and lifts her back onto his hip. “See? We’re already learning new words before we get to school,” he says to her and takes his cup of coffee, “Quit trying to brainwash my kid.”

Andy laughs. “Don’t bring her to a vegan cafe then.”

“We come for the cat and you know it,” Pete teases, but he winks at him before getting Skylar back into the car. 

As soon as Pete pulls into the parking lot he knows that they’re royally fucked. The time on his dashboard is just mocking him at this point. “Alright, kiddo, showtime,” he says in an overly cheerful voice. 

A glance in his rear view mirror tells him that Skylar doesn’t buy it. She’s sucking on her thumb and eyeing the school apprehensively. Pete takes a deep breath and pushes his own fuzzy anxiety down so that he can get out of the car. 

He gets Skylar out of the car, hoisting her up on his hip and trying not to break down when she hides her face against his neck. He puts her backpack on his back and kisses the top of her head. “Game faces,” he murmurs, nudging her with his forehead, “Come on, let’s see your game face.”

Skylar giggles softly and leans back so she can bare her teeth and growl. Pete does the same to her and her giggles turn into a full laugh, shaking the heaviness in his own heart. “That’s better,” he says, walking towards the school. Skylar lays her head on his shoulder as he walks in.

Pete pulls out his phone. The email said something about the teachers meeting everyone in the gym to walk the students to their classrooms. Pete starts to walk down the hallway but he knows from how quiet it is that there’s no one in the gym. For a long moment he just stands there not knowing what to do, and it’s an oddly eerie feeling. The same feeling that settled in his bones when his ex had walked out of the apartment with Pete holding Skylar. 

“Daddy?” Skylar mumbles, pulling on his hair. 

And fuck. He’s just standing here, unable to move. He’s already made his daughter late for school because he didn’t wash the right pair of shorts and he had to be comforted by his best friend because it’s always about Pete. His fuck ups. His insecurities. His anxiety. Fuck.

“Hey guys, are you lost?”

Pete turns around and there’s a guy walking down the hall in a cardigan and fedora. For a moment Pete is broken out of his spiraling and feels like everything is standing still under this guy’s warm smile. It’s easy and comforting, the kind that Pete hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“First day?” Fedora Guy tries.

Skylar shifting and hiding her face brings snaps Pete out of whatever emotional cocktail he’s swimming in. “Um, yeah.”

“I’m Patrick,” he says, still smiling, “I’m the music teacher.”

“Uh, Pete,” Pete says, holding Skylar like she’s his lifeline. And ok, time to be a grown up and use actual full sentences. “This is Skylar. Wentz. Um, Pete and Skylar Wentz.”

Patrick nods and offers Skylar a little wave when she pokes her head out of Pete’s shoulder. “Hey, Skylar, I like your bow,” Patrick says, and he doesn’t sound patronizing like grown ups usually do when they’re talking to his kid. He fucking hates that. 

Skylar offers him a shy smile, and Pete knows that about all they’re going to get out of her right now. He really hates that she picked up on Pete’s anxiety, but they’re working through it. 

“Who’s the teacher?” Patrick asks, looking back at Pete. 

“Oh, uh,” Pete stutters, looking at the phone in his hand. He scrolls through the dozen junk emails, and he really needs to unsubscribe to a lot of mailing lists--oh here it is. “Ms. Williams.”

Patrick beams. “Oh, you’ll love her! She’s awesome,” he says, “I can show you her classroom.”

Pete exhales and smiles, feeling a little lighter. “That would be great.”

Pete and Skylar exchange glances as Pete follows Patrick down the halls. Pete watches Skylar look around at the colorful bulletin boards and look into classrooms with laughing kids. “Looks like fun,” Pete says softly, nudging her again. 

Skyler bares her teeth at Pete and Pete does it back before kissing her forehead. They get to the end of the hallway and Patrick stops. “Alright, here we are.”

Pete hesitates outside the classroom. There’s a young woman with fire red hair and a bright yellow polka-dot dress on waving her hands about with an energetic smile lighting up her face. She glances out into the hall, surely feeling like she’s being watched, and cocks her head before coming out into the hall. “Hey! You must be Skylar,” she says, “I was beginning to worry about you.”

Skylar holds tighter onto Pete. And Pete’s about two seconds from walking them back to the car to go home and read about homeschooling. But Patrick is looking at him expectantly and Ms. Williams is smiling reassuringly at him. And his mom’s voice is in the back of his head, telling him that Skylar needs to socialize with kids her age.

“Come on, dude, it looks like they’re having a lot of fun in there,” Pete says, trying to gently pull her arms from around his neck. 

“Wow, Skylar, your shorts are awesome,” Ms. Williams says, “I love the pink sparkles!”

Skylar grins and looks at Pete like she’s saying _I told you_. And suddenly all seems right in the world. He sets her down and Ms. Williams holds out her brightly colored manicured hand. Skylar wraps her hand around her index finger and she leads Skylar into the classroom. 

Pete stands there, waiting for Skylar to look back. To hesitate and, fuck, he hates that he feels that way, but he thought that Skylar would cling to him. Maybe even cry a little. It’s just been the two of them. 

His eyes are burning as he watches Skylar disappear from his view, moving to the far end of the room that he can’t see from the doorway. He jumps a little when he feels Patrick’s hand on his shoulder. “You did great,” he says softly, squeezing gently, “Come on.”

Pete follows Patrick back down the hall, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he says, laughing a little nervously.

“It’s cool,” Patrick says, “All the parents do it on the first day of Kindergarten.”

“Good to know I’m not that different then,” Pete says. 

Patrick quirks an eyebrow. 

Pete grins and gestures towards himself. “Kinda already setting myself up for disaster with the whole tatted up single dad thing.”

Patrick laughs. “That’s setting yourself up for disaster? Sounds like you’re going to have every single mom and teacher throwing themselves at you.”

Pete rolls his eyes and snorts, “Not interested in having single moms thrown at me.”

Patrick grins and Pete is a little saddened that the walk back to the entrance went by so quickly. “Now, other single dads...I might be interested,” he says, because he can’t just leave well enough alone. It’s not like he can just stop at making his daughter late for school, he has to flirt with her music teacher too. 

But it’s kinda worth it to see Patrick’s cheeks tinge pink. “Oh,” he says softly, “Well I can tell you that the hot single dad prospects were pretty slim until you showed up.”

Pete hesitates by the door, shoving his hands into his pockets. Which is when he realizes he still has Skylar's hot pink bookbag on his back. “Oh shit,” he mutters, sliding it off, “I should--”

“I’ll take it to her,” Patrick says, knowingly, “Just head out for the day. Have a little cry in the parking lot. You’ll feel better.”

Pete smiles tightly and hands over the bookbag. “Thanks,” he says softly. 

“See you at pick up,” Patrick says, patting his shoulder before turning and walking back towards Skylar’s classroom. 

Pete stands in the doorway until Patrick and the hot pink bookbag disappear from his sight. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick smiles. “Yeah she’s a really cool kid,” he says, then his smile widens into an Earth shattering grin, so big that his eyes go all squinty behind his glasses. “We were talking about our favorite songs the other day.”
> 
> Oh god. 
> 
> “And she said her favorite was ‘Enter the Sandman’,” Patrick says, starting to shake with laughter, “It kinda threw me for a loop after everyone else said ‘Let it Go’ or some other Disney song. I think the edgiest song I’ve gotten up until that point was ‘Poor Unfortunate Soul’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don’t plan on updating this every other day, I just really got too excited and then suddenly there was chapter two. I’m going to try to contain myself and update just once a week from now on. We’ll see how that goes.

Pete does cry in the parking lot that morning, and the next. And on Wednesday too. But Thursday, Thursday is a lot better. Pete manages to actually get Skylar to the gym on time to meet up with all the other kids instead of Pete taking her to Ms. William’s classroom with a sheepish smile. Ms. Williams--no _Hayley_ , she insisted--was really cool about it. She never made him feel guilty for not rushing Skylar when she took a full ten minutes trying to tie one shoe. He knows that he could have just done it for her, but he’s fucking putty in her hands when she looks at her purple sneakers with determination. So, Pete just sits on the floor with her and scrolls through Twitter while she sings the song about the bunny going down the rabbit hole, then swoop and pull. 

Pete’s leaving the gym, trying not to psychoanalyze the fact that Skylar chose to sit far away from the rest of the kids and pull out her picture book of Marvel women that she and Pete had been reading last night. He tries not to see it as him brushing off on her. But it’s hard to walk away, hovering in the doorway and staring, and hearing his mom’s warnings that she needed to hang out with kids her age a long time ago. Maybe he ruined her chances at making friends. The hours of watching Star Wars probably didn’t help. She’s going to be a hermit who’s only friends are the remote control and a bowl of cheese balls. 

“Whoa, hey.”

Pete feels a warm hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. “I thought we got all the parenting breakdowns out on Monday.”

Pete turns and sees Patrick, a guitar slung over his back and he’s wearing that damn hat again. “It’s kind of one continuous breakdown,” Pete says, looking back at Skylar, “With like, random pauses of breathing.”

Patrick chuckles softly and lets go of Pete’s arm, leaving his arm cold and tingling. “You need to breathe more, come on.”

Pete doesn’t really register what he’s saying, until Patrick tugs on the back of Pete’s shirt and he’s being turned around and ushered away from the gym. Pete’s not really a kind of guy that likes to be manhandled. He was pretty touchy feely growing up and didn’t really have any concept of personal space, but that was before. 

And there’s a moment where Pete thinks that he should bolt, because he’s really not that kind of guy anymore. And maybe he never really was. Maybe it was just a facade back then too, that now this neurotic, touch starved, shell of a man was always his true self. That he’s always going to have these internal battles over someone just touching his fucking arm like he’s a psycho.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess still. The kids were playing with guiros yesterday and I didn’t have time to clean up after my last class,” Patrick starts rambling as he pulls him into the music room. 

Pete walks in and takes a slow inventory, realizing that this was not how the music room looked like when he was in grade school. There’s a giant rug in the middle of the room, purple with lots of swirls and when Pete looks twice at it he realizes it’s Prince’s symbol. And ok, that’s pretty ballsy. Even more so are the random posters up on the wall. Bowie--of course--and Elvis Costello and Micheal Jackson. There’s a record player in the corner of the room with a huge stack of vinyl sitting next to it. A piano sits off to the side, there’s a drum kit near the back of the room, and another acoustic guitar sits on the choir stand. 

And there’s a bunch of wooden sticks all over the floor. Pete bends down and picks two up. “Oh, I think I remember these,” he says, rubbing the sticks together and letting the ridges make a low vibration. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty great for the first week of school when everyone still has the summer jitters,” Patrick says, setting down his guitar and leaning back on the sturdy wooden desk pushed up against the wall. 

Pete walks over to the choir stand and takes a seat, still playing with the guiros and feeling a little better now that he has something he can do with his hands. He forgot about this. About having tangible ways to get himself out of his own head. He used to write poetry, lots of it, and that helped. Not necessarily get himself out of his head, but it made the rampant thoughts slow and become easier to identify and file away in neat little filing cabinets so that they weren’t thrown all over Pete’s mind in a disarray. 

“Skylar’s doing really great, from what I can tell,” Patrick says slowly, and Pete looks up at him from the guiro. 

“Yeah?”

Patrick smiles. “Yeah she’s a really cool kid,” he says, then his smile widens into an Earth shattering grin, so big that his eyes go all squinty behind his glasses. “We were talking about our favorite songs the other day.”

Oh god. 

“And she said her favorite was ‘Enter the Sandman’,” Patrick says, starting to shake with laughter, “It kinda threw me for a loop after everyone else said ‘Let it Go’ or some other Disney song. I think the edgiest song I’ve gotten up until that point was ‘Poor Unfortunate Soul’.”

Pete can feel his cheeks burning. “I, um, I mean, are they going to call social services on me? I didn’t let her watch the music video or anything--”

Patrick’s laughter erupts into a full belly laugh, and he’s even wiping at his eyes. “Dude, I think it’s awesome! She’s the coolest kid I’ve had in my classroom.”

“Oh,” Pete says, and he isn’t sure, but he almost feels _proud_. It’s not like he’s never felt pride for his daughter before. He knows his kid is fucking rad as hell, she’s pretty much his best friend. He thinks he lucked out with the whole kid thing. Like how she likes sitting on the couch with him and listening to him explain that Gandalf didn’t really die, and that he gets sent back to Middle Earth as Gandalf the White by Eru. And he has no idea if he’s doing the right thing. If he’s supposed to sit her in front of the television with The Wiggles playing or whatever, but he just thinks that’s sort of insulting her intelligence. She’s fucking smart and she understands things much deeper than just what the difference is between an orange and an apple--or whatever it is they teach on those shows. 

“Look, do you have anywhere to be?” Patrick asks, pulling Pete out of his thoughts again. 

Pete has two projects sitting on his desk, but the deadline is lax since school has already started. He won’t get busy again until closer to the end of the school year when they start issuing out newer editions for the next academic year. “No,” Pete says easily, surprised with himself.

Patrick smiles again. The dude is seriously always smiling, and Pete wonders what kind of meds he’s on, because maybe Pete should talk to his doctor about getting on those. “Well I don’t have my first class for another hour and a half. You can hang out here if you want, I think the guiros are helping.”

Pete looks down and realizes he’s still messing with the grooves of the instrument, and he blushes. “Oh, sorry. I mean, I can go. You probably have lesson plans or whatever.”

“Honestly? You’d be doing me a favor. You’re the only adult I’ll talk to for the next like...six hours maybe?” Patrick says, looking up at the clock like it’s a grenade. 

Pete grins. He totally knows the feeling. “Yeah, ok. Thanks.”

And it should be awkward then, right? Pete should feel that staticky feeling seep out and start to coat his body like it usually does when he’s been out of his house for too long, but it doesn’t. Pete just keeps playing with the guiro while Patrick pokes around his desk for a bit. He puts _Low_ on the record player, and yeah, Pete could get into this. 

Pete gets up and helps clean Patrick’s classroom, ignoring his “dude, you don’t have to do that”, because he’s a dad and it’s sort of hardwired in his brain that he will get ansty if he sees a mess on the floor longer than necessary. 

They talk about Chicago, and Pete’s heart almost bursts at how riled up Patrick gets about their hometown. “And, don’t look at me like that...I know Glenview is a suburb but Chicago is my home. I think it’s the best city in the world,” Patrick says when Pete rolls his eyes a little when he asks what part of Chicago he was from. 

They talk about stupid high school stories. And Pete purposely leaves out the bootcamp thing, because he’s just having too much fun living in this light space in his mind. This kind of easiness that he hadn’t felt in so long, the kind that he didn’t think he would be allowed to feel again. It’s not--he tries not to get hung up on the whole idea that his youth was jaded. That bootcamp stole his adolescence and he really doesn’t want to think about all the phone calls begging his mom to let him come home. 

But it’s kind of more than that. Because it was like as soon as he got out of high school and started college, when he started to think he could start over and become the ‘him’ that always existed in the fabrication of staying up too late and sipping on cheap wine coolers, he messed up and lost all those possibilities. And he never wants to really think of Skylar as a mistake, but fuck, what twenty year old _plans_ on a pregnancy?

He’s not sad because Skylar made him sad. That’s not it at all, and he tries to remind himself that over and over, because it’s hard to not fall into that trap. That he could have finished college with his political science degree and probably gone into law school--something that would make his parents proud of him after four years of fuck ups. He knows that he wasn’t really a _bad_ kid, but there was always this darkness in him that bogged him down and made him do stupid stuff. Reckless. Harmless in the grand scheme of things, but reckless when it came to his future. Or so his parents thought. Their reactions when he called them about Skylar was definitely...interesting. 

So he doesn’t like to think of Skylar as the reason for his spiralling thoughts. Doesn’t like to think she’s the reason he looks at other people his age and feels that stab of _jealousy_. Because he could have that life. The one where he’s working his way up a successful career, living in a clean apartment without sticky jam handprints all over the refrigerator, dating. Fucking dating like it was going out of style. 

“Hey,” Patrick says gently, like he knows he’s interrupting the inner monologue going on in Pete’s mind.

Pete blinks and realizes that the record has finished and they’re just standing in silence. 

“I have a class coming in like ten minutes,” he says, eyes washing over Pete’s face. And it’s not in the patronizing way. It’s not like he’s looking to gauge Pete’s stability right now. Not like the looks he got in the hospital.

It’s warm and, fuck, maybe even interested--which Pete tries to shake free from his heart right away. Because he can’t get wrapped up in that right now. It’s one thing to have a crush, to think about Patrick’s hat and his warm hand on him and the way he talks to him about his kid, like she’s this art exhibit that no one else gets but them. Like everyone else is clearly missing the point, that they’re too distracted by all the other paintings’ high gloss and chunky colors, bold and demanding attention. And maybe Skylar is all in the same color family, never venturing out from the same shades of colors that make up Pete, but she’s full of depth and textures. 

“Oh, yeah, ok,” Pete says, trying not to think too hard about the fact that his voice is all soft and dreamy sounding. 

Patrick’s not really in his personal space, they’re a good distance apart, but Pete feels this heat wash over him as if he was pressed against him. And he wonders what it would be like. What would it be like to be held right now? If just standing a few feet away made him feel warm and safe, what would it be like to be in his arms? 

“I, uh,” Patrick starts, and Pete grins at the pink returning to his rounded cheeks, “I have Thursday mornings pretty open if you...well, if you wanted to make this a regular thing.”

“Yeah,” Pete says simply, because he doesn’t even need to consider it. 

Patrick takes a step towards Pete, but then he stops and looks up at the clock. 

“Right,” Pete says, clearing his throat, “I should head out.”

There’s a moment or so where Pete considers reaching in to give him a hug goodbye. And it startles him a little because that’s something that “Before Pete” would have done. Instead he does a weird little half wave then walks backwards out the door and keeps Patrick’s smile in his field of vision for as long as possible, before he has to turn and walk down the hall and out the building. 

When Pete gets to his car, he doesn’t drive home. The projects can wait. Instead he drives around Chicago, goes to all the spots that Patrick mentioned were his favorite. Just drives by them and tries to look at the store fronts and restaurant patios through his eyes and not the glazed over apathetic glances that Pete had always given them. 

He had always been one of those kids that talked about leaving their hometown to find “bigger and better things” and Pete hadn’t really considered that maybe there’s nothing better than what’s right in front of him until Patrick had said something. 

He winds up at a bookstore near his old high school. He’s surprised that the static still hasn’t found its way to him as he walks down the aisles and runs his hands over the spines. There’s some titles that he recognizes from english classes and then there’s some that he remembers saying he wanted to read but never did. There hasn’t been a book on his nightstand that wasn’t from the 649 call number range in a while.

Pete doesn’t realize that he’s made it to the poetry section until he’s already flipping through pages and tapping his foot to the beat that’s counting off in his mind between velvety words. He spends the rest of the afternoon looking through slim books and even takes a few up to the checkout counter. He pauses at the notebook display. He’s always just used those spiral notebooks from the discount store, but these leather bound ones are making a statement. The morning with Patrick, the drive around his city, the books in his hand and the notebooks in front of him are making a statement. 

He’s just not quite sure what it is yet. 

*

So Skylar and Pete get into a rhythm of Skylar going to school. The first few days of Pete being home without Skylar was really weird. He kept trying to get up to go check on Skylar, because it was too quiet. But, then he’d remember that she was just at school. And he was just a stay at home dad with no need to really stay at home anymore. 

And that sort of shook him up a bit. It was like Skylar starting school changed his identity a bit. Before he was a stay at home dad, filling Skylar’s nap times with his work. And he hated his job, it was so boring that he would dramatically check his pulse to see if his soul had actually drained from his body. But he just put up with it because he could hear Skylar laughing in the next room over and he knew that in an hour or so he’d break for lunch and they’d sit out on the balcony eating lunchables. 

“Why don’t you do something else then?” Patrick had asked one Thursday morning.

Pete leaned back on the Prince rug and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, cause it’s that easy.”

“Well isn’t it?” Patrick asked, still tuning his guitar.

“Not really,” Pete grumbled, “I don’t have a college degree and the only experience I have is editing textbooks from home. Unless you count the summers I worked the snow cone stand outside the Home Depot throughout high school.”

Patrick snorted. “Well ok. You have some marketable skills there. Computer skills are always important, plus any sort of editing or communications skills always look good on a resume. And you’ve been with them for a long time, so that shows that you’re loyal.”

“That’s all really vague,” he had said, then frowned, “I mean, it doesn’t really matter though, does it? I don’t know what I want to be doing. And the idea of trading in a soul sucking job for another one doesn’t really sound all that appealing either.”

“What do you like to do?”

It was a simple question. Really it was and Pete thinks that he should have been able to answer it without any problems, but he couldn’t think of any hobbies of his that don’t involve Skylar somehow. He likes watching tv with her. Likes going to the playground and playing hide and seek in the tunnels. He likes to pretend to have light saber fights in the living room with paper towel rolls.

But he’s pretty sure that none of those will show up on a resume very well. 

“Come on, it’s not a hard question,” Patrick grinned, strumming a bit. 

“Poetry,” he had said suddenly, and then blushed at the way Patrick lights up. Like he just said the magic word that unlocked all of Patrick’s dreams. 

But he’d been filling the leather bound notebook in between projects for work. And after he had Skylar tucked into bed, he would sit up with a cup of tea and read through the poetry books he had bought, forgetting how easily it was to slip away comfortably. 

“Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.”

Pete’s starting to look forward to Thursdays more and more these days, and even Skylar is starting to catch on. 

“She keeps looking at me with this creepy little smile,” he tells Andy. Andy is using him as a guinea pig for his new dal recipe. He’s been wanting to add more hot dishes to the menu, has been playing with the idea of expanding the cafe into more of a full on restaurant. 

“She’s not stupid,” Andy says, dipping his spoon into the bowl that they’re sharing, “And she knows you.”

“I’m not walking around filling notebooks with ‘Pete hearts Patrick’ or anything.”

Andy is quiet for a moment, just stirring the ice in his chai latte with a metal straw and Pete knows he’s about to get an earful. Contemplative Andy is never a good sign. 

“You know that you’re allowed to date, right?”

Pete frowns. “What do you mean?”

Andy rolls his eyes and walks away from the bowl to go pull out the bread from the oven. He sets it out on the cooling rack. “I mean that you haven’t talked about anyone like Patrick in a very long time.”

“Well I’ve only seen your ugly face around so--”

“Pete, don’t. Come on, man, I’m being serious.”

And that makes Pete’s palms start to sweat, which he knows is not from the spices in the dal. He rubs them on his jeans and takes a sip of his iced latte, even though caffeine is the last thing he should have when he’s getting worked up. But it’s cold and sweet, and it occupies his mouth so he doesn’t have to talk. 

Andy watches him for a minute, in the way that Andy does. Slowly peeling back each layer of Pete’s mask. His jokes, his parenting books, the poetry, Skylar. Pulls them back until he sees his best friend who hasn’t been looking out for himself in a very long time. 

Pete’s about to say something, maybe something to get Andy off his back. A half assed lie about how he’s perfectly happy with being single. And he is. But then again he isn’t. There’s more than enough times that he’s at the park with Skylar and looks at the kids who have two parents with them. How they look like a more balanced unit. And it’s not even just about Skylar having someone else to balance her more out, or love her more. Pete wonders that sometimes, if she feels slighted that she doesn’t have a mom or another parent to take care of her. If Pete’s enough for her.

And he’s about to tell Andy that he’s totally fine, but then he looks at the clock and jumps out of his seat. “Fuck, I’m late, I’m late.”

“For a very important date?” Andy grins. 

“Oh shut up,” Pete grumbles, grabbing his keys off the counter, “The dal is great. Needs more turmeric though.”

He probably shouldn’t be speeding, the last thing he needs right now is a ticket, but he doesn’t want any disapproving looks from the school. He’s only met a few parents so far during pick ups, the ones that are brave enough to come up to him and introduce themselves. And they’re mostly nice, the stay at home moms with their blond bobs, but he feels really on edge when they look at him with a mix of pity, disappointment, and curiosity. 

When he pulls up to the school, he’s one of the only cars in the parking lot. He darts out of his car and runs down the halls, half expecting a hall monitor or teacher to yell out “No running!” He’s got a million apologies on the tip of his tongue, but they all get swallowed when he sees Skylar sitting on the ground with Patrick.

He’s sitting in front of her with his guitar and he’s playing “Starman” and Skylar is looking at him like he’s actually Bowie. And the way that Patrick is singing, belting out the lyrics, not softly and shy with his pink cheeks that Pete always gets in the music room, is making Pete think about what Andy said. That he’s allowed to date. That he could be allowed to have this. 

And he thinks about the kids he sees in the parks with two parents. Sees how happy they are, can lean on each other. And fuck, Pete wants to be held. He wants awkward first dates with pizza grease kisses and bubbly beer in his stomach. Wants lazy mornings in bed with slow hands easing each other into the day. Wants the possibility of it even. 

“Daddy!”

Pete grins and stoops low so that Skylar can run to him and wrap her arms around Pete’s neck. Over her shoulder he watches Patrick watch them. His hands hover over the strings, like he’s wondering if he keeps strumming that they’ll come back over to him. There’s a ghost of disappointment in his eyes, and Pete recognizes that look. It’s the same one that Pete sees in the rear view mirror when he sees Skylar’s car seat empty. 

Pete picks Skylar up and hoists her against his hip before walking over to him. “We were going to get pizza tonight. Do you want to come?”

Patrick stares at him for a beat, like he’s waiting for a punchline. And it hits Pete in the gut, to see Patrick second guess him like that. He keeps his face neutral, not hopeful--not wanting to seem desperate. Just friendly enough, just open enough for Patrick to open the door the rest of the way if he wanted. 

“Pizza sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this chapter playing Bad Side of 25 on repeat and I'm not even mad about it.
> 
> Also, I wanted to say that there's a lot of hurt and craziness in the world right now. I've had a few comments say that fanfic has been helping them through quarantine and it's been a real crutch for me as well. As everything gets bleaker out there with the social injustice going on in my country, I hope that we still can take time to find comfort in things like fanfics and our favorite bands, if even just for a moment. Don't stop caring. Don't grow apathetic. But you're still allowed to take a break and decompress.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What?” Pete asks, looking down at his daughter, and Patrick stops mid step to look back as well. 
> 
> Skylar holds out her other hand to Patrick and looks at him expectantly. “You’re supposed to hold hands when we cross the street.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no spoilers really, but please note the rating change. Apparently I'm getting a bit carried away later on in the story ;)

Pete doesn’t know what he’s thinking as he buckles Skylar into her carseat. And from the look that Skylar is giving him, she’s confused too. Which is totally acceptable since the only person Skylar’s seen Pete hang out with is Andy. And then to ask her _teacher_ out? Yeah, she’s probably weirded out. 

Pete, being the coward that he is, just gets in the driver’s seat and turns on the radio loud enough that Skylar won’t try to talk to him. Because if he’s going to explain this to his daughter, he sort of needs to get a handle on it first. It’s not a date, not really. It’s kind of hard to have a date with a five year old present. And that calms him a bit. This isn’t a date. It’s like...a parent teacher conference or something. 

Except when he pulls up to the parking lot, Patrick is already there and fixing his hair in his visor’s mirror. _Fuck_ , why did he have to be so cute? And ok, maybe Pete looks into the rear view mirror to make sure he doesn’t have anything in his teeth, then catches Skylar grinning at him.

“What?” He asks. 

Skylar giggles and shrugs. Smart girl. 

Pete gets out and frees her from the carseat. He sets her down so she can walk and takes her hand, leading her over to Patrick. He grins at them, and there’s a little strain to his smile which makes Pete’s skin itch a little. 

“Hey, have you been here before?” Pete asks casually, or at least he hopes it sounds casually and not the I-Need-To-Say-Something-To-Break-The-Tension desperation that’s pounding at his heart. 

Patrick nods. “There’s really not a pizza joint that I haven’t tried before.”

“Oh, so we have a professional on our hands,” Pete says in a conspiratorial voice, looking at Skylar with a sly smile. 

Skylar raises her eyebrows like _challenge accepted_. 

Pete holds her hand a little tighter as they get closer to the street to cross, he usually just picks her up but his mom told him last time that he needs to start easing up a bit. They get to the street and pause so that Skylar can look dramatically both ways, then she frowns and clears her throat. 

“What?” Pete asks, looking down at her and Patrick stops mid step to look back as well. 

Skylar holds out her other hand to Patrick and looks at him expectantly. “You’re supposed to hold hands when we cross the street.”

There’s a brief moment of mortification, that awkward bubble in Pete’s throat when he just doesn’t know what to say. It’s not even that it’s that big of a deal. It wouldn’t be if she had reached for Andy’s hand. Or just someone that Pete didn’t have some warped, not quite formed thoughts and feelings for. 

And Patrick looks a little stunned, pauses to look at Pete almost for permission. Whatever he sees on Pete’s face relaxes his shocked eyes into something warmer and more Patrick as he reaches down and takes Skylar’s small hand in his. “Alright, now are we ready?” He asks her. 

She nods and the three of them cross the street. It’s the end of summer, the time of year where the midwestern wind has a bit of bite to it at the end. He wonders if Patrick is going to think he’s a shitty parent for not packing a jacket for Skylar. But he doesn’t say anything, just opens and holds the door for them. 

It’s one of those pizza joints where there’s a counter to order at and various tables scattered throughout the restaurant. “What are we doing today?” Pete asks Skylar, hoisting her up so she can see the different pies on display. 

“Um, cheese,” Skylar says pointing. 

“We’re not into pepperoni anymore?” He asks. 

Skylar shakes her head and oinks like a pig, which _fuck Andy_. He can see Patrick trying to keep from laughing as he stares at her. “Is that why you haven’t been eating the ham sandwiches I’ve been packing for your lunches?”

She just shrugs and looks at Patrick expectantly. Patrick holds his hands up and shakes his head, a gesture meaning he’s not going to be backing either of them up. 

“You know you should probably let the person who feeds you know of any diet changes,” Pete tells her.

“I’m telling you now,” she says, confused. 

Pete tries to give her his best “serious dad” stare downs, but she just stares back with mirrored intimidation. To everyone else they probably look like they’re in a western standoff, but then Pete sighs, giving in. Because of course he does. He kisses her forehead. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Skylar beams at him and points to the desert pizza that has chocolate sauce and M&Ms. “Oh now you’re pushing it,” Pete mutters, but he knows he’s going to get a slice of it because he wants some of that sugary goodness too. 

“One cheese,” Pete says when it’s their turn to order, “And a bacon--”

“Wilbur!” She wails and Pete covers her mouth and looks around sheepishly and mouths “sorry” to anyone he meets eyes with. Patrick is full on laughing now at this point.

“I hope you know this means you’re eating vegetarian tonight too,” Pete grumbles and Patrick just nods, still not able to get a word in through the laughter. 

In the end they order three cheese slices and three desert slices. “I don’t know why you think you get chocolate after that freakout,” he says even though he’s grinning. Skylar knows that he’s just playing, he never shuts her down for speaking her mind. Even if it’s a dietary identity crisis in the middle of a pizzeria line. 

“Did you tell your dad about the school carnival?” Patrick asks Skylar once they’ve seated. 

Pete takes a bite of his cheese and looks expectantly at Skylar who just blushes. And it’s kinda cute how flustered she gets around Patrick, because _same kid_. “There’s a carnival,” she says, then busies herself with her cheese pizza.

Patrick snorts and turns his attention to Pete. “There’s a carnival at the end of the month. It’s pretty sweet, kind of like the last hoorah of the summer before fall kicks in. _And_ it’s sort of a fundraiser thing for field trips and other fun things for the kiddos.”

Pete nods along as he works through his pizza.

Patrick freezes mid-bite and frowns, then looks up at Pete with eyes filled with pity and confusion. “I’m sort of surprised you haven’t been roped into helping by the PTA, they’re pretty ruthless in getting the kindergarten parents involved--you know, new blood and all that.”

It’d been about a month since Skylar started school and Pete was getting a little discouraged by the lack of parent interactions he’d had at this point. 

“They’re probably just intimidated by you,” his mom had told him when he brought it up on the phone. 

“I’m intimidating?” Pete scoffed. He had been wearing a pink fuzzy crown and holding a purple plastic cup, having tea time with Skylar when his mom had called. 

Pete knows it’s because he shows up to drop off with tattered sweat pants and too tight shirts that he never replaced after college. He knows it’s the tattoos that cover his arms and his obviously dyed black hair. At least he stopped wearing eyeliner everywhere, he could only imagine what they would think then. 

He also knows that they don’t approve of Skylar. He’s not dumb, ok? He’s heard what some of the parents say when he drops Skylar off in her Metallica shirt and sparkly rain boots. _Did she get dressed in the dark?_ _Isn’t that a boy’s shirt? They shouldn’t allow kids to wear skulls in school._ And he knows that Skylar’s personality doesn’t agree with everyone. Knows that she speaks her mind and doesn’t understand that someone would have a problem with it yet. It also doesn’t help that her interests don’t line up with other kids her age. 

“Well, it just means you get to enjoy the carnival instead of working it,” Patricks says now, trying to make light of the conversation. 

Pete shrugs and looks at Skylar, then sighs because she has pizza sauce all over her face. Casualties of eating deep dish. 

Patrick grins as she keeps making her way through the slice that’s bigger than her head. 

“Oh, she’ll eat it all,” Pete assures him and he rolls his eyes when she starts slurping at the pizza sauce dripping off her hands. Yeah, it’s no wonder the PTA doesn’t want anything to do with them. They’re a mess. 

But Patrick is looking at them like they’re his best friends. 

“So do you work the carnival?” Pete asks.

Patrick nods. “Yeah the teachers take shifts. I usually work the ferris wheel.”  
  
Skylar gasps. “Really?”

Patrick grins. “They only let the coolest teachers work the rides.”

Pete rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are starting to hurt from grinning. “Can you sneak us on for free?” He teases.

Patrick shakes his head, beaming at him. 

“What?” Pete fake offense, “That’s horse shit.”

“Daddy!” Skylar exclaims and Pete holds his hands up.

“I told you it’s different when I saw bad words,” Pete says, trying to keep his eyes on Skylar and not on Patrick still beaming at him like he’s the coolest person he knows. 

“Why?” Skylar says around the wad of crust she shoves into her mouth.

“Because I pay the bills,” Pete says simply and grins at Patrick rolling his eyes. 

“Why?”

“Do I pay the bills?” Pete asks, then when Skylar nods, “Because society makes me.”

Skylar scrunches up her face like she does when she doesn’t understand a word. “Society?”

Pete pauses, unsure how to explain that one. Patrick jumps in, “You know how you have rules in the classroom?”

Skylar nods and slides the M&M pizza near her.

“Well society is just like a big classroom. There’s rules that even your dad and I have to follow,” Patrick explains and Pete can’t stop his mind from going from “not date” to “date” thoughts pretty fast. 

“Like paying bills,” Skylar concludes, taking a giant bite of the dessert pizza. 

Patrick takes a bite of his own. “Exactly.”

And because Patrick is clearly a saint, he dives into another explanation on what the correlation is between paying bills and being allowed to say bad words. Skylar looks enthralled in the conversation, nodding along and asking, “but why can’t kids pay bills?” Which makes Patrick laugh and ask, “would you volunteer to pay bills just to be able to say bad words?” And Skylar thinks about it for awhile before deciding that she likes being able to play with her puzzles instead of sitting on the computer like Pete. “He looks like he’s going to sneeze the whole time,” Skylar stage whispers.

Pete’s second guessing the whole “can’t be a date with a five-year old” because this is probably the best first date he’s had. Everyone should bring their Skylar to dates. She’s fearless in asking Patrick questions, things that adults don’t realize are important like, “What’s your favorite cereal?” Apple Jacks, apparently. “Is the Tooth Fairy real?” Of course. “Why isn’t Pluto a planet anymore?” Because scientists make mistakes too. 

So, Pete doesn’t really think twice when he asks Patrick what his plans are for the rest of the night. They’re standing in the parking lot, Skylar already buckled into her carseat and Pete standing by Patrick’s driver’s door. 

They’re still in September, so it’s light enough outside for Pete to see his favorite cheeks blush. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well Skylar goes down for bed in an hour. I was thinking maybe we gain up on her in Uno so I can finally regain some of my dignity”--Patrick laughs and leans back against his car, nodding for him to continue-- “And then, I don’t know. I kind of haven’t done this in a very long time.”

Pete wants to look down at his shoes, so that when Patrick says no it won’t hurt as much, but Patrick holds his gaze and murmurs, “We’ll figure it out.”

*

Patrick ends up letting Skylar win in Uno.

“You were supposed to be on my team!” Pete exclaims, and Skylar giggles and hides behind Patrick as Pete swoops in as the tickle monster. 

“Alright, bedtime for the Uno Champion,” Pete says when he glances at the clock. 

And cue the dramatics. “What? No way!”

Pete grins and picks her up, ignoring her flailing arms. “Yes way,” he laughs. He looks over at Patrick who is still sitting at the kitchen table, packing up the cards. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be out in a few.”

“You get to stay up with Patrick?” Skylar exclaims, “No fair!”

Pete just carries her into her bedroom and drops her clumsily onto the bed, laughing when Skylar giggles as she bounces. Pete pulls out some pajamas and hands them to her. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll get our book.”

Skylar hops off the bed and rushes down to the bathroom. As much as she hates bedtime, she loves being read to. And it’s pretty awesome. Pete loves that she’s so curious about words and what they all mean, how they string together and the patterns in them. 

He has _The Princess Bride_ opened to where they left off when she comes bouncing back in with her shark pajamas on. Pete usually does about two chapters a night, but she falls asleep pretty quickly. It was a more eventful night for them, Pete doesn’t have guests over often. Except for Andy, but he’s not new and exciting like Patrick is. Pete starts smiling again at the image of her firing questions at Patrick like she’s screening him to see if he’ll fit into their little family. 

He would never underestimate his daughter, but he really didn’t expect her to be so intuitive. And maybe she doesn’t really think anything of it. Maybe she doesn’t know that Pete _likes_ Patrick like that. And while she’s smart as hell, she’s still five and dating isn’t really something that’s on her radar. But, he’d be foolish to not see that she’s just as fiercely protective of Pete as he is of her. 

He slips off the bed and pulls her blankets further up, kissing her on the forehead before setting the book back on the bookshelf. He tip-toes out of her room, shutting the door slowly so the door doesn’t creak then goes back to find Patrick sitting on the couch with his phone out. 

“What level are you in Candy Crush?” Pete asks with a grin.

Patrick quickly puts his phone down. “I wasn’t playing...oh whatever, don’t look at me like that. What else was I supposed to be doing?”

“Snooping?” Pete answers, going to the fridge. “Do you want a beer?”

“Sure,” Patrick replies, then, “And are you giving me permission to snoop?”

Pete hands him a beer with a grin. “I’m kind of an open book,” he says, “You can just ask me whatever you’re curious about.”

Patrick shifts on the couch and leans back against the armrest as Pete sits on the other end. Pete’s been spending the past few Thursdays sitting in Patrick’s music room listening to him strum his guitar or play against the keys of the piano, and Pete’s starting to wonder if there was a reason he knew to give Pete the guiro that first day. Patrick’s twisting the label on the beer, twisting and twisting until it’s shredding off the bottle. 

It’s definitely a different atmosphere, being on Pete’s couch with Patrick. In the music room they kept a distance apart as they told each other stories. Patrick’s time in college, his favorite funny kid stories, the drama from the teacher lounge. And Pete would respond with embarrassing Skylar tales, suburban scandals from his mom’s book club, and memories of when he and Andy used to get into trouble. They were all safe topics. Things to learn about one another, but nothing too revealing. Nothing that would leave each other open and vulnerable. 

“Where’s Skylar’s mom?” Patrick asks slowly, staring at the torn beer label.

Pete takes a long drink then, “Wow, didn’t take long to get to that one.”

Patrick shrugs sheepishly, “I mean...it’s kind of the big one.”

“Is it?” Pete asks, looking over the couch and in the direction of Skylar’s room. “She doesn’t remember her. Skylar was only three months old when her mom left.”

“Jesus.”

Pete shrugs and takes another long drink. “We get by.”

He doesn’t really mean to make it sound like that’s the end of the conversation, he wants to answer whatever questions that Patrick might have. It’s just that Pete’s not really all that interested in dissecting her reasonings in leaving. He thinks he got the better end of the deal. That, yeah, it was fucking hard sometimes, but Skylar was the best thing to ever happen to him. There’s moments where he feels a ping of nostalgia. Of thinking back to when he was a kid and still had dreams of doing great things. But he also remembers the queasy feeling in his stomach as he walked into his first college class, remembers how he was there for all the wrong reasons. How he didn’t even know what he was doing or where he was going. Then suddenly he was being told that he was going to be a dad and his life had a solid plan laid out in front of him. 

“We weren’t really in a relationship when she got pregnant,” Pete continues when Patrick stiffens at the awkward silence stretching out in front of them, “It was sorta just a summer fling and so we really had no business in being parents.”

“But you are,” Patrick says, turning the bottle in his hands and letting his thumb mold around the ridges of the twist off top. 

Pete nods. “Yeah, I mean”--he sighs and drains the rest of his beer-- “there was definitely a weak moment where I considered putting her up for adoption. I--well, _look_ at me. I guess, well, back then I was _much_ worse. But I just couldn’t. That little girl is my whole world.”

Patrick’s silent, sipping lightly at his beer and looking anywhere but at Pete’s face. And _fuck, that was heavy_. This is why Pete doesn’t date. Because he doesn’t know how to be a good time. His life is messy and muddled down with issues and

“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Patrick says softly.

Pete blinks over at him. The way he’s said it isn’t in the melancholic way his mom sounds on the phone or the scolding way that Andy says it over a cup of tea. Patrick says it like Pete is missing out on the world’s greatest treasure and it’s just _because he doesn’t know yet_. And Pete should slow this down. No, he should stop it, like now. 

But instead he hears the scrape of Patrick’s jeans against the couch and then the light thud of a beer bottle hitting the coffee table, and then the soft surprised breath slipping out of his own mouth.

And then they’re kissing. 

Pete hasn’t kissed anyone in four years. There’s a moment where his brain catches up with his lips and he starts to freak out. He hasn’t been with anyone for four _years_ . He doesn’t really think anyone can forget how to kiss, it’s pretty biological right? But there’s technique, Pete remembers being really good at this once upon a time. He’s thinking about it too much, keeps thinking _ok, stop sucking on his lip_ and _it’s a good thing we both had garlicky pizza_ and _when’s the last time I flossed?_

Patrick tugs at Pete’s hair and murmurs, “Get out of your head, Wentz.”

And that’s really all it takes for Pete to completely shut down and move simply on instinct. To be driven by touch and taste, and fuck, that sound of Patrick’s soft shuddery breath when Pete licks the hollow under his ear. There’s this heat pulsing through Pete’s blood, traveling throughout his body and igniting him on a fire he didn’t even know could exist in him. He didn’t know that he would ever feel this burn puddle at the bottom of his belly. Didn’t know that he’d ever get the chance to press up against another body, warm, soft, and conforming around him. Taking him in and surrounding him in dizzying, shaky breath. 

Pete crawls into Patrick’s lap and licks up the length of Patrick’s throat. It’s like now that he’s had a taste, he can’t stop until he devours Patrick whole. And Patrick’s clearly along for the ride, tilting his head back against the arm rest and baring his throat for him. Pete slows himself down, just enough to really savor this. To press slow, open mouth kisses against the soft, flushed skin under him. To suck gently at his Adam’s apple, and grin at the absolutely wrecked sound escaping him. Pete tongues at the vibrations, nibbles at the pulse points, then moves up to Patrick’s mouth to capture the gasping, “ _Please_ ,” into his mouth. 

Patrick shifts and Pete groans lowly against Patrick’s lips as the friction of their jeans against his cock shoots white hot jolts up his core. “Fuck,” he pants. 

And then there’s frantic hands and soft, breathy giggles as Pete tries to unbutton Patrick’s pants at the same time he’s trying to take off Pete’s shirt. 

“Pants off first,” Pete mutters, “More important.”

“Beg to differ,” Patrick breathes, succeeding in pulling the soft fabric up and off his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about what tattoos I couldn’t see under these clothes.”

Pete’s eyes roll to the back of his head as Patrick leans up and licks the thorns around his neck. But then he remembers he was on a mission to move the offending denim. Patrick wiggles and tries to help him without detaching his mouth until, “Hold on, there’s something digging into my back.”

Patrick shifts and digs his hand into the cushions and pulls out a San Holo action figure. And it’s like Pete’s just gotten a cold bucket of water thrown on him. He scrambles back and sits on his ankles, staring at the action figure like it’s some kind of omen. 

What the _fuck_ is he doing?

Patrick sits up and looks at him wearily. “Pete?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Pete mumbles, standing up and taking a couple steps back so that there’s distance between them. 

Patrick looks at the action figure in his hand and nods slowly, before setting it down on the coffee table. “Oh.”

“I just…” but he trails off and tangles his fingers into his hair, looking down at the floor and fixating on the stain from Skylar spilling grape kool-aid. 

He hears Patrick stand up and then, “I should probably go.”

Pete nods, frowning at the stupid stain. “Yeah, ok,” he says softly.

He knows that he should walk Patrick out, that he needs to look up at him and move his feet. He needs to be a fucking adult for once. 

But Pete just keeps staring at the stain until he sees Patrick’s shoes over the stain. “Hey,” Patrick whispers, and just like before, Pete is helpless under his voice. He looks up and is met with soft eyes, a slight frown, and knitted eyebrows in worry. 

“Hey,” Pete mumbles.

Patrick’s frown lifts a little and he takes a step forward, reaching out and cupping Pete’s cheek. Pete holds his breath and balls up his fists to keep from dragging Patrick back to the couch as Patrick leans in and presses a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

“You’re going to have to make the next move,” Patrick says softly against his forehead, “I’m interested, _very_ interested. But you have the most to lose here.”

Pete’s treacherous hands reach out to clutch Patrick’s shirt in his hands.

“I like you, Pete. But I have no interest in coming into something that you’re not ready for. That _either_ of you are ready for,” he continues. 

Patrick reaches down to free his shirt from Pete’s hands and takes a step back. “Think about it. I still want us to be friends either way.”

Pete just nods dumbly. Patrick waits a beat, surely to see if Pete will regain the ability to speak. When it’s clear that Pete’s going to be mute the rest of the night, Patrick picks up his beer from the coffee table and Pete hears him set it in the sink before hearing the door open, then shut with a soft click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still listening to Soul Punk on repeat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick moves back just far enough that Pete would have to make the deliberate move to kiss him. He would have to make a choice. And Patrick doesn’t budge, doesn’t give in and make that choice for Pete. He just holds his ground and stares in Pete’s eyes almost begging him to not be a coward. Almost like he’s demanding "what are you scared of?" And Pete’s not even sure he knows anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I rewrote this chapter like three times because while I like to stir the pot, I'm really bad at dealing with the fallout.

Pete has the weekend to over analyze everything that Patrick did and said on the couch.  _ You don’t give yourself enough credit _ and  _ you have the most to lose  _ and  _ I have no interest _ . And maybe he’s cherry picking the parts that cut him the most because that’s always been how Pete operates. 

So Saturday he mopes around the apartment all day, which is sort of hard when he has a five year old demanding his attention. He tries his best to keep her entertained by starting the Star Wars movies over for her, beginning with A New Hope because he’s not a barbarian. But by Sunday he can’t get out of bed. 

Skylar walks slowly into his bedroom, and he knows it’s late in the morning. He heard her fumbling around the kitchen earlier, heard the telltale sounds of her eating cookies for breakfast and he just didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. 

“Is it a blue day?” She asks softly, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

Pete fights the urge to pull the blankets over his head and hide from his daughter, because he hates it when he gets like this. 

_ He got better. _

“I think so, kiddo, better call in reinforcements,” he says instead. 

“Reinforcements” is Andy showing up with enough food to feed an elephant army. Pete hears him come into the apartment with the key he made for him and then Skylar screeching, “Uncle Andy!” as if it was a surprise visit. 

He listens as Andy messes around the kitchen, he can hear scrapes of plates against the counter and he’s sure Andy is making Skylar eat a better breakfast than cookies. And then the bed is dipping and he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

“Skylar says Patrick was here the other night?” Andy asks in a tone that means he really doesn’t need Pete to answer at all. Like he’s already solved the puzzle. 

“Yeah.”

“Want to tell me what happened?” 

Pete shrugs and presses his face into the pillow. Andy rubs at his shoulder and lays down on the pillow next to him. “We kissed...and well, it was leading to something else.”

Andy chuckles lightly. “Ok? So he wasn’t good in bed?”

Pete lifts his head and glares at him.

“Ok, ok. So you did your Pete thing and freaked out on him, then what?”

“He said he had no interest in getting into something that I wasn’t ready for.”

Andy’s eyebrows pinch together and Pete thinks,  _ Yes! He sees my point! _

“That’s...kinda really amazing actually,” Andy says thoughtfully, then when Pete is about to talk, “No, let me finish. He likes you, obviously. And Skylar seems to be a fan of the guy. He’s giving you time to adjust to the idea of dating...I don’t see where the problem is.”

Pete doesn’t answer, and Andy doesn’t push him to. He leaves Pete alone for the rest of the morning and keeps Skylar entertained in the living room. When Pete finally emerges from his dark bedroom sometime in the afternoon, they’re folding paper cranes.

“There’s soup on the stove if you think you can stomach it,” Andy says softly, like this is the most natural thing in the world. And it sort of is for Andy. He’s seen plenty of Pete’s “blue” days to have a game plan for when they come up. They’re not as frequent as they used to be, after Pete went through lots of therapy and got better about reaching out when he got overwhelmed, but they still pop up on occasion. 

Pete comes over with his bowl of soup and watches Skylar follow Andy’s careful instructions. And he can’t help but notice how much she loves Andy. How she looks at him like he’s her best friend. Sure, Andy was here from the beginning, so it’s not exactly the same. But, Skylar needs other people in her life. Not just Pete, and maybe he’s going about this the wrong way. Maybe it’s not just Pete who needs someone like Patrick in his life. Maybe Skylar needs him too. 

Even after his small little epiphany, Pete still drops Skylar off late purposely for two weeks.

And yeah, he knows that makes him a shitty dad, but it also guarantees that he doesn’t have to see Patrick at drop off times. He just doesn’t know what to say to him. Because it’s one thing to ease into the idea of dating, but a whole other ballgame to actually do it. Every morning he woke up and told himself “ok, this is the day you’re not going to be a coward”, but then he’d think about having that awkward conversation with Pete and he’d just stay paralyzed in bed until Skylar whined and pulled him out the door. 

Pete’s rounding the corner to get out of the school as quickly as possible when he hears, “Mr. Wentz?”

Pete freezes and exhales loudly. “Um, yeah?”

He turns slowly and sees a man wearing a blazer with a mop of curls on top of his head. He holds out his hand and closes the distance between Pete and him. “I’m Joe Troham, Assistant Principal.”

Pete shakes his hand on autopilot. “Uh, hi. Is Skylar in trouble?”

Joe smiles gently, “Let’s go have a chat in my office.”

Not good. 

Pete’s having major flashbacks of being sent to the principal’s office back when he was a kid. He’s wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans when Joe holds a door open for him. Pete takes a seat and tries to remind himself that the walls are not caving in on him. 

“So, how are you guys adjusting?” Joe says, sitting in his plush chair on the other side of the desk. 

“Fine?” Pete says, then grimances when he realizes it sounds like a question, “I mean, it’s fine. Skylar seems to be doing ok.”

Joe nods, and presses his lips together with his eyes staring at Pete like he’s trying to gauge Pete’s reaction before it actually happens. He sighs, “Look, it's a tough transition to Kindergarten. Did Skylar go to preschool?”

Pete frowns. “No,” he says, “I work from home so I didn’t really see the need to--”

“Preschool is really important for kids. It helps them adjust to being in a classroom and being away from home. We really recommend it for all our parents,” Joe cuts him off, then gives Pete another once over, “And it’s really beneficial for parents who have a hard time...adjusting.”

Pete feels like he’s just been kicked in the stomach. He thought that he had been handling things pretty well, all things considering. He thought that he had the nerves pretty squashed down, far away from anyone’s curious gaze. 

“Have you considered letting Skylar wait until she’s six to start?” Joe says gently, “Maybe enroll her in a part time daycare so you both can adjust and try again next year.”

Pete frowns. “Wait, are you kicking her out?”

Joe sits back in his seat and shakes his head slowly. “No,” he says, “She hasn’t done anything wrong per say, but we’re a little concerned.”

“ _ We _ ?” Pete stresses. He feels this tug at the base of his brain, this warped red hot first wrapping it’s way around his throat. He’s protective of Skylar, duh. He’d do anything for her,  _ protect _ her from anyone and anything. But he had somehow failed her here. And he’s pissed. Mad at himself and at the stupid moms that look at him weird and fucking Patrick and his understanding smile. 

Joe sighs, “Some of the parents have brought it to my attention that Skylar is...sometimes not always appropriate at school.”

Pete leans in. “Not appropriate  _ how _ ?” He growls. 

Joe looks unphased. “She’s been telling kids at school about ‘Death Eaters’--”

“--it’s from Harry Potter--”`

“And she’s been drawing zombies in art class, though Mr. Way thought they were pretty good, but--”

“She can’t be the first kid to draw  _ zombies, she's _ a  _ kid _ !” Pete hisses. 

“But coupled with the fact that she told the lunch lady that serving meat is giving everyone cancer and killing the ozone layer…”

“Look, that’s just a phase,” Pete sighs, exasperated. 

“Along with the fact that she’s been late consistently,” Joe says with an air of finality.

Pete closes his mouth, because there’s no excuse for that one. It’s not her fault, he wants to say, none of this is her fault.  _ I’m just a shitty parent, but don’t take it out on her _ . 

“Officially, I can’t make you take her out of school,” Joe says, sitting forward and resting his folded hands onto the desk, “But I would give it some serious thought.”

Pete deflates, all the anger gone as he lets it all settle in. “Yeah ok,” he says softly, looking away, “Are we done?”

Joe stands and opens the door. “My door is always op--”

Pete walks out.

The static is back, coating Pete’s entire body in a low hum. The hallways with all the colorful bulletinboards are closing in on him and he has to get the fuck out of this school  _ now _ . His delirious walk turns into a sprint, and when the doors push open against his shaking hand, he doesn’t stop until he reaches his car. 

Only his stupid keyfob broke months ago, so trying to stop his hands from shaking long enough to get the key into the door to let himself in is about to give him a stroke. His hand jerks and the keys fall to the pavement. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing his head against the curved top of his sedan. He knows his heart rate is quick, can feel it hard to breathe and he has to keep reminding himself  _ you got better, you’re better, that was before _ . 

“Pete?”

“Fuck,” he nearly sobs, because he can’t do that too ontop of all of this. He cannot talk to Patrick while he’s in mid freakout mode in the middle of an elementary school parking lot. 

“Pete? Hey,” Patrick says with more force and then there’s footsteps rushing over to him. 

A warm, steady hand presses against his back, right between his shoulder blades. “Pete,” Patrick says slowly, “Just breathe.”

He says it like it’s easy. Like it’s actually an automatic bodily function for someone like Pete. 

“Good, just like that,” Patrick murmurs, because apparently his body _ does _ react to Patrick. Even if his own body won’t listen to Pete when he’s screaming at it to just be fucking normal, it’ll bend to Patrick’s every whim. 

Pete’s trying to block out the thoughts that are circling around his brain, spiraling round and round like they’re going down a drain straight to his heart. What is it about fucking parking lots?

But they quiet when Patrick rubs Pete’s back in long stripes, from the nape of his neck to his tailbone and back up. He’s not sure how long they stand like that, and there’s a few heart pounding moments where he thinks Joe’s going to come out and see Pete breaking down in the music teacher’s arms. And then he’s really going to think that Pete is an unstable parent.

“Come on,” Patrick says in the same low tone he’s been using, the one that turns his brain into “Do What Patrick Says” mode. He wraps his arm around Pete’s waist and tugs, turning him and then leading him to the other side of the parking lot where the staff parks.

He doesn’t really think about it until he’s putting on his seatbelt. “Don’t you have classes?”

“I haven’t gone in yet,” Patrick says, “I’ll tell them that I’m sick.”

Pete frowns. “You haven’t been doing drop offs?”

Patrick gives him a shy smile and starts the car. Apparently Pete wasn’t the only one acting like a schoolgirl. Pete watches warily as they drive from the school. “Where are we going?”

“Places that cheer me up,” Patrick says.

Pete quirks up an eyebrow and leans his head back against the headrest. “Do you play hookey often?”

“No,” Patrick says, turning down the radio, “Not since highschool.”

Pete winces, he doesn’t want to think about that, so before Patrick can ask, “I’m sorry about the other night.”

Patrick shugs, “It’s fine,” he says casual, but Pete can hear the shakiness in his voice. 

This could be the part where he says, “I want you to be part of our lives. Even if it doesn’t work out, I want that possibility”. 

“Still friends?” Pete asks instead, and he wishes he didn’t sound like a timid little kid.

Pete watches as Patrick stiffens in his seat, then pulls into a parking lot and exhales. He turns in his seat to face Pete. “I’d like that.”

And there’s a part of Pete that’s sort of disappointed. He doesn’t know when he became a swooning maiden from a Harlequin romance novel, but he wanted Patrick to fight for him. Wanted him to say he didn’t want to be just friends, that he wanted all of Pete and...

“You coming?”

Pete blushes and gets out of the car. They’re at a record store, and really it could be any record store in Chicago, but Patrick claims it’s the best. When they walk in it smells like cardboard that’s been wet for too long and Pete already loves it. Everything is just dingy enough for Pete to know that the owner cares more about the music than the aesthetics. And yeah, Pete loves Chicago as the next person, maybe not as much as Patrick, but he’s sort of annoyed by the whole “hipster” movement. Where things look old, but they’re not. They’re just faked replicas of memories. 

Patrick goes to the jazz section first and sort of rolls his eyes at Pete when he starts sifting through the records. “What do you know about jazz? I’m sure your bedroom walls were filled with AC/DC posters.”   
  
Pete snorts and shrugs, because he’s not exactly wrong. “I like Callaway.”

Patrick’s eyebrows go up a little, but he nods all casual like and says, “Alright, what else?”

And so they spend the afternoon taking each other through their childhood and teen years. Pete shows him the Bob Dylan album that really stuck with him, how “Blowin’ in the Wind” made him feel both scared and safe, and Patrick just nodded like he knew exactly how Pete felt. And he took him through his punk phase with Gorilla Biscuits and Screeching Eagle, which of course led to the inevitable story about Pete’s time in the punk scene in the 90s. Vague memories of being in bars and punk venues with his bass, his shirt soaked in sweat and beer. 

“I didn’t know you played,” Patrick says with the exact smile he assumes he uses on his students. That “I’m proud, but I’m not going to embarrass you about it” kind of smile. And Pete gets all warm and fuzzy with it, gets almost as drunk off it as he used to on watered down beer and adrenaline. 

“Yeah, bass,” he says like it’s no big deal. And it’s not really, he’s come to terms that he’s not going to be some rockstar anymore. 

Patrick’s fingers stop sorting through vinyl and he looks at him for a moment like he wants to say something, then thinks better of it. Pete waits for it, because from what he’s noticed about Patrick, he’s impatient about things on his mind. Give it a minute and, “So you’d never think about playing again?”

Pete grins. “Kinda hard to be in a band as a single dad.”

Patrick scoffs. “There’s plenty of musicians with kids.”   
  
“Yeah that are either rich and can afford childcare or have a spouse.”   
  
Patrick’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t mean like...being famous or whatever. Just playing because it’s fun.”

Pete’s about to say something when Patrick turns and leans against the bin they were looking through. “I play this bar on the weekends sometimes.”

And wow, yeah that image went straight to Pete’s dick. He’s thinking about how he can subtly adjust himself when he realizes that Patrick is still going on and he catches the tailend, “You should come out and see for yourself. They’re pretty good at hosting new artists.”

“I don’t sing,” Pete blushes, busying himself with the vinyl again. “I just play bass.”

“You write poetry,” Patrick says, getting closer. He’s pretty sure Patrick knows what he’s doing to him. “That’s basically lyrics.”   


“You’re still forgetting the part where I don’t sing,” Pete murmurs, because Patrick is standing behind him and he can feel the heat of him down his spine. 

“Logistics,” Patrick says lowly, and it reminds Pete of the night on the couch. Pete clears his throat and Patrick, the bastard, laughs a little and backs away. “If I can get my moody fourth graders to sing, I can get you to sing.”

Pete laughs. “Moody fourth graders?”   


Patrick looks at him gravely. “Enjoy your time with Skylar when she’s still cute and sweet.”

Pete snorts. “Sweet? That kid is going to be the death of me.”

“But you love it,” Patrick says. 

“Yeah,” Pete grins, adding another record to his pile, “I do.”

*

“Skylar, honey, just pick something to wear,” Pete says, struggling to keep his tone neutral and not mirror the level of aggravation he’s at, “We’re going to miss Patrick’s set.”

Skylar stomps out of her room with a handful of clothes and tosses them on the floor. “These all look stupid,” she mutters.

Pete stares at the pile of clothes and frowns. He picks up her black and white polka dot skirt then grins. “Ok,ok, I might have an idea.”

Skylar looks at him skeptically, but holds her hand and gestures for him to continue. 

Pete runs into his room and pulls out an old Rancid shirt that he’s had since he was a teenager. Skylar looks at him questioningly. “Trust me,” he says.

Moments later Skylar is dressed in a baggy Rancid shirt tucked into her polka dot skirt. Pete helps her tie her glittery pink boots then he steps back and grins. “You look so punk rock, kid.”

Skylar beams and does a twirl before jumping up and down. “We’re going to be late!” She exclaims. 

“I know! I was telling you that, but you had to be a diva,” Pete says, scooping her up with a grin. Pete’s not sure if taking Skylar to Patrick’s gig is the best idea, but Patrick had assured him that it was a pretty family friendly bar. If it got too rowdy they could always dip out. And he made her take a nap this afternoon so she wouldn’t get cranky at him in the middle of the set because she was bored. 

When they get to the bar, Pete squeezes through the crowd and makes it up to the bar with Skylar hiding her face in his neck. She never was very good around a lot of strange people, something Pete’s sure he’s at fault for. The bartender looks at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile. “Ohmigosh! She is the  _ cutest _ !” He exclaims, making Skylar burrow further into Pete. He just pats her back and smiles apologetically at the bartender. 

“She’s a little shy,” he exclaims.    


The bartender just shakes his hands. “Oh no, I get it. I’m Brendon by the way, are you Patrick’s friend?”

Pete fights the urge to smile too big and nods, “Yeah, Pete. And this is Skylar. I was worried we’d be late.”

Brendon laughs. “He never starts on time. There’s always something fuc--I mean, messed up with the system. What can I get you two to drink?”

“Shirley Temple for the little punk and I’ll have club soda, thanks,” Pete says, grinning when Skylar lifts her head up at the mention of soda.

Brendon nods and gets to work, and Pete smiles at the extra cherries he throws into Skylar’s drink. He looks over at the stage and sees Patrick poking his head out around the side, scanning the crowd. Once their eyes meet, Pete waves at him and laughs a little when Patrick blushes and ducks away. 

“Use the kid to your advantage and grab a table up front,” Brendon says, sliding him the drinks. 

Pete pays and heads up front to the stage. True to Brendon’s word, a young couple gives up their table for Pete and Skylar with a grin. Pete settles into his seat and holds Skylar’s drink to her when he realizes she’s not going to release herself from him anytime soon. And it might be selfish, but Pete’s a little glad for it. After these weeks of watching Skylar transition to spending her days without Pete, it’s nice to know she still needs his attention. That he’s still her safety net. 

The lights dim a little and there’s a little enthusiasm coming from the crowd as Patrick comes onto the stage. Skylar perks up when she sees Patrick on stage, her eyes widening like she can’t believe she knows a celebrity. 

Patrick doesn’t even introduce himself or the song he’s about to sing, he just jumps right into “Life on Mars” and Pete’s stunned. It’s not that he hasn’t heard Patrick sing, he has and he knows the guy is good, but this is on another level. And seeing him on stage, it’s like Patrick belongs up there for everyone to see. All the time. Like he should live up there, forever at home with his guitar and that soulful voice. 

A few songs in and Patrick finally addresses the crowd. “Thanks for coming on, tip our shitty bartender”--which earns him a “Hey!” from Brendon, and then Patrick winces-- “Sorry, Sky, I said a bad word didn’t I?”

Skylar nods dramatically and they get a few laughs from the crowd. Patrick chuckles a little, “I’m going to hear it from her dad.” And when he winks at Pete, his heart about gives out. Patricks smirks at him like he knows the effect he’s having on him then launches into “Purple Rain”, an apparent crowd favorite. 

The Patrick on stage is entirely different from the Patrick that Pete’s seen in the music room, shyly blushing at every story that Pete pulls out of him. Or the Patrick that gives him a proud smile when he finally admits his passions, slowly peeling back the layers and layers he’s acquired from being a parent. Not even the Patrick that lays an assuring hand on his back, settling Pete back into his body. 

He’s never met anyone so multifaceted. How someone could have the softness that he has to be the sweet teacher that all the kids love but have the raw power that strips Pete right down to his core. 

And then it’s over and somehow Pete’s been zoned out fantasizing about Patrick for the last twenty minutes. Skylar’s standing on the chair next to him clapping and grinning at Patrick like  _ she’s _ the proud parent. Pete’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much and his heart feels so full looking at her being so enthralled by Patrick. 

“I’m so glad you guys made it,” Patrick says, when he gets off stage. He hugs Skylar first then stands a little awkwardly in front of Pete, his music room Patrick is back.

Pete grins at him and pulls him into a hug. “You were great,” he murmurs.

Patrick’s hand on Pete’s lower back presses him closer and if Pete didn’t know any better, he’d swear that Patrick pressed a barely there kiss on his shoulder. But then it’s gone, and Patrick is putting distance between them again. “Have you guys eaten? They have really great wings here,” and then he looks at Skylar and rushes, “And they make the  _ best _ grilled cheese.”

Skylar peers at him like she’s trying to make him crack under pressure, but then she smiles brightly, “Ok!”

Patrick shakes his head and stage whispers to Pete, “She’s scary sometimes.”

Pete laughs and puts his arm around Patrick, leading him to a chair. “Take a seat, rockstar, I’ll go put in our order and get drinks. What do you want?”   


Patrick looks over at Skylar’s drink. “Oh, Shirley Temple definitely.”

Skylar nods at him like he’s worthy to be in her presence. “Only cool kids drink Shirley Temples,” She tells him, shooting Pete a look. 

Patrick looks at Pete’s mostly finished club soda and laughs. “Well we already know your dad isn’t as cool as you, why don’t you cut him some slack.”

Pete comes from behind Skylar and unleashes a tickle attack, laughing at her cackling giggles. “I’m going to tell Brendon not to put any cherries in yours!”

“You wouldn’t!” She cries out, outraged. 

Pete just shrugs dramatically and walks towards the bar, only to hear Patrick whisper, “Brendon would never.”

And it’s just as easy as it was at the pizzeria. Patrick kept up with Skylar’s little quips and asked her about school, to which she just rolled her eyes and said, “Kids are dumb.” And Pete smiles a little at that, but something in his stomach does a little flip. Because he doesn’t know what to do to help her fit in more, and Joe’s words keep coming back to haunt him. 

Patrick nods understandingly. “It’s hard when you don’t feel included,” he says gently, “But you just have to keep trying to make friends.”

Skylar shrugs. “I have friends,” she says.

Pete smiles and rests his chin in the palm of his hand.  _ Suck it, Joe _ . “Who are your friends?” He asks, because he hasn’t heard her mention anyone from school. And maybe he’s supposed to ask her more about school, but he just remembers how annoyed he got with his parents when they kept asking him about school. 

“Duh,” Skylar says, munching on another cheese covered fry, “Uncle Andy, Garbage, and Patrick. And you, daddy, you’re my best friend.”

Pete’s heart swells and breaks at the same time. Patrick stares at Pete like  _ hold it together _ and Pete just smiles and nods. “You’re my best friend too, Sky,” he says quietly. 

Skylar is in the process of making a new friend; Brendon lets her pick the music on the jukebox and even takes her behind the bar to show her “how the magic happens”. 

“God, I hope no one from the school sees this,” Pete mumbles, sipping his soda.

“It’s not like she’s pouring the alcohol,” Patrick grins as Skylar puts random fruit in the drinks that Brendon is making, “And hey, at least she has a career to fall back on if the school thing doesn’t work out.”   
  
Pete glares at him. “Not funny,” he pouts, “Did you hear her? She doesn’t have any friends.”   
  
Patrick sighs. “Look, she just gets along with adults more. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I should have tried harder to get her into preschool,” Pete mumbles, “Or taken her to more playgrounds or made some friends that were parents too…”

“Pete, stop, it’s not your fault,” Patrick says, “There’s nothing to fix. She’s not broken, look at her! She’s having a blast up there with Brendon, who by the way is just a giant kid.”

Pete rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile at the way she’s grinning from filling a margarita with mostly lime slices. 

Skylar comes wandering back to their table sometime later, rubbing her eyes and Pete gives her a knowing smile. “Bedtime?”

She shakes her head. “Bedtime are for babies,” she mumbles, but climbs up into Pete’s lap and lays her head on his shoulder. Pete doesn’t argue with her, just rubs her back as Patrick grabs the bill that was left on their table. 

“No, I got it,” Pete says, reaching for it, but Patrick snatches it with a grin. 

“You paid for the pizza last time,” he says gently.

By the time they sort out the bill, Skylar is already asleep on Pete’s shoulder. He gets her situated in the car, then leans against the shut door to look at Patrick. “This was fun,” he says softly. 

Patrick nods and takes a step closer. 

Another step, and he brings his hands to press against the car on either side of Pete. He leans in and Pete thinks about the fire that coursed through him when Patrick kissed him. How he’s felt so hollow and cold since then, how much he’s craving Patrick’s lips against his. And Patrick’s leaning in, hesitating just before their lips touch. “Your move, Wentz,” he murmurs, the heat of his breath warming Pete’s lips in a teasing preview of what’s to come. 

Patrick moves back just far enough that Pete would have to make the deliberate move to kiss him. He would have to make a choice. And Patrick doesn’t budge, doesn’t give in and make the choice for Pete. He just holds his ground and stares in Pete’s eyes almost begging him to not be a coward. Almost like he’s demanding  _ what are you scared of? _ And Pete’s not even sure he knows anymore. 

Because it’s not about Skylar, not really. Patrick’s already in her life and they’ve already got this bond forming, so Pete’s kinda shot himself in the foot with that one. So the only other reason is because he’s Pete. The last relationship he had ended with him standing in an apartment alone with a three month old. And that wasn’t even a real relationship. Pete’s pretty sure he’s never had a relationship. The years he would have done all of that was occupied by a toddler. 

And it’s not even that he would have no idea what he was doing. It was also just that Pete was a lot. He’s not an easy guy to love. There’s a reason his parents shipped him off the bootcamp. A reason why he was always the guy for a good lay but not the guy to bring home to mom. A reason why Andy has to have a game plan for the days Pete can’t get out of bed. Because Pete is fucking crazy. 

Patrick moves back, and Pete knows he’s missed his chance. He’s about to protest, but Patrick reaches down and squeezes Pete’s hand. “I had a nice time with you guys tonight,” he says, “You better get her bed.” And then he reaches up and traces the dark circles that have been mocking him. “You too.”

And then Patrick is stepping away all together, taking the warmth with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr](https://throwupsparkles.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete rests his forehead against Patrick’s and traces the curve of his jaw with his fingertips. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispers, feeling brave under the dim lighting. 
> 
> “If you do,” Patrick murmurs, “I’ll forgive you anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support for this fic!
> 
> I've been shooting for two updates a week, but it might go down to once a week if I get this teaching job I'm interviewing for tomorrow. Wish me luck!!!

“God, just  _ hold still _ ,” Pete grumbles as he ties off the braid he just redid for the third time. 

“I want to go on top of the ferris wheel! Oh! And can we play that game where we get a goldfish?” Skylar rambles, still squirming as Pete works through the second braid.

“I will let you stand there and throw as many ping pong balls at goldfish as long as you sit still so I can finish your hair,” Pete bargains and he grins when she dramatically sits still and laughs. 

He gets the second braid down much quicker this time and adds two bows to the ends of her french braids. “Alright, you’re all set. Let me just grab the sunscreen.”

“Daaad,” Skylar whines, “It’s almost night time, I don’t need sunscreen.”

Pete arches an eyebrow and she just sighs and sits back down to wait until Pete is ready to go. He finds the sunscreen and stuffs it into his backpack as well as a change of clothes for Skylar since he’s had way too many accidents of Skylar dumping juice all over herself. She’s sorta like her dad in the way that she gets too excited and doesn’t pay attention to what she’s doing. He also throws in the first aid and when he walks through the house wondering if he forgot anything else, Skylar groans. “Daddy, come  _ on _ !”

Pete sighs and decides to call it. If anything it’ll just mean they can leave early. He’s not really that excited to spend all evening with the parents from school. 

“Maybe this can be your chance to make friends,” his mom had said over Sunday dinner. 

Pete aggressively stabbed at his potatoes. “I don’t think they want to be my friend.”

“Well you’ll win them over,” his mom said softly.

His dad had just nodded, but didn’t look up from his phone throughout the whole conversation. Casualties of being a lawyer, and it’s not the first time that Pete was glad he didn’t go down that path. 

Pete drives as slow as possible to the school carnival, which makes Skylar get more antsy. She starts kicking the back of Pete’s seat and then unbuckles herself when he reluctantly parks the car. He hesitates for a moment, trying to put on a brave face of Skylar. 

He’s always had some degree of anxiety growing up. And it didn’t make things any easier when his parents sent him to that bootcamp. Sometimes, when he does get to sleep, he still has nightmares of the kids bullying him. How he would hide under his bed and they would taunt him over every little thing. He knows why he hates being around new people, but it’s just something that he thought he might have grown out of by now. He hasn’t been that scared teen calling his mom in years.

And maybe there’s a degree of it coming back to him when he sees Skylar riled up like this. She looks so like him, keyed up and ready to impress a worthless cause. Because the world is cruel, and kids can be crueler. But she’s just so damn hopeful still, she’s grinning at all the kids walking with their parents into the carnival grounds like she’s not even considering the possibility of rejection. 

Pete gets her out of the car and sprays her down with the aerosol sunscreen can, which  _ best invention ever _ , before she takes off running towards the entrance. Normally, he’d have freaked out. Would have felt his stomach drop as the distance between him and his daughter grew, but he sees Patrick at the entrance, squatting down to pick up Skylar into a hug as she reaches him. 

Which does make his stomach drop, but in a totally different way. 

“Hey,” Pete says softly as he reaches them. 

“Hey,” Patrick answers with a smile, setting Skylar down, “So I have about an hour before I’m supposed to report to duty.”

Skylar tugs on Patrick’s hand. “Come  _ on _ !” She exclaims, getting more impatient as they stand at the entrance.

Patrick grins and lets Skylar lead him further into the carnival, leaving Pete to trail dreamily behind. Ever since he started warming up to the idea of Patrick becoming a more constant figure in their lives, he can’t stop imagining it. And moments like these where Patrick is holding his daughter’s hand and laughing at something she said, moment’s where he doesn’t have to do much imagining, are doing things to his heart. There’s this little nagging at the back of his mind, a slight pull, a whispering saying things like  _ be careful _ or  _ he’ll leave just like she did _ . Pete does his best to push that voice away or at least drown it out with the loud beats of his heart that run rampant when he lays his eyes on Patrick. 

Pete goes to get her tickets for the rides at the booth and then Skylar is off. Pete hovers a bit, but Patrick takes his hand. “She’s fine,” he says, “there’s tons of parents and teachers around, you don’t have to be within ten feet of her at all times.”

Pete blushes and he’s right. Pete can see her from here, and that’s enough. He watches her climb into a teacup with some other girls her age and they’re all smiling. All good signs. Skylar is showing off her new glittery bows that Pete had put in her hair and the other girls look pretty impressed. He wishes he could hear what they’re saying, because from what he remembers, girls in school were so catty. 

“Whoa,” Patrick says, “I can hear the gears spinning in there.”

“Girls can be so mean,” Pete says, “That’s a thing right? They made a movie about it and everything.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about anyone calling Skylar ‘fugly’,” Patrick sighs, “She’s only in kindergarten.”

Pete still frowns, which only deepens when the girls she sat with go off to the next ride without inviting Skylar. 

“Relax,” Patrick says with a grin, patting his shoulder, “I’m going to get you some cotton candy. No one can look sad with cotton candy.”

Pete snorts and nods, watching Patrick disappear in the crowd before going to Skylar. “What next?” 

She points to the goldfish game and Pete sighs, because they’ve had way too many goldfish die and breakdowns over empty aquariums. “Alright, but if you get one you have to take care of him. You can’t just feed him whenever you feel like it.”

Skylar puts her hand over her heart. “Promise!”

Pete takes her over to the game and he chuckles as she makes the most serious face ever to throw the ping pong balls into the little fishbowls. There’s a kid next to her with marker drawn tattoos all over his arms, which makes Pete laugh a little. The kid looks up and sees Pete’s arms and lights up. “Whoa!”

He totally doesn’t have personal space comprehension and reaches out to grab Pete’s arm. “Is that Sally and Jack?” He exclaims. 

Skylar looks over at him all smug. “Yeah, he’s got the best tattoos.”   
  
Pete beams at her then says to the kid, “I like your tattoos. Did you draw these?” Because they’re  _ really _ good. There’s some robots, a few aliens, and even zombies. 

“Oh! Sick zombies!” Skylar shouts, looking at his tattoos now too. 

“Oh, geez,” a guy with bright red hair comes over, “I’m so sorry. Zeplin, come on man, we look at art not touch.”

Zeplin blushes and lets go of Pete’s arm. 

“It’s fine,” Pete says, because he knows what it’s like, “Skylar was pretty impressed with Zeplin’s tattoos.”

“Mr. Way!” Skylar grins.

“Hey, Sky, did you win a fish yet?” He asks, giving her a wink. 

She sighs, “No. I don’t think they want to come home with me.”

Zeplin takes a ping pong ball and tries to give her a few pointers. Mr. Way looks at Pete and grins. “You’re Skylar’s dad? I’m Gerard,” he says, and Pete’s glad he doesn’t hold out his hand to shake or anything. 

“Yeah, Pete,” he replies with a little less apprehension now that he knows one of Skylar’s teachers lets their kid have marker tattoos. 

“Skylar’s such a great artist,” he says, moving his hands around as he talks, “She has a huge imagination. And like, really good taste. We talked about Goosebumps books for almost all of recess the other day.”

Pete beams at Skylar, who is going on and on about the Nightmare Before Christmas with Zeplin while they’re throwing ping pong balls. Patrick comes over with the biggest cone of cotton candy he’s ever seen. “Oh, hey Gerard.”

“Jesus, that cotton candy is bigger than your head,” Gerard chuckles.

Patrick hands it to Pete, who just rolls his eyes and holds it down so that the kids can pull at it. “I hope you know that I’m sending you Skylar’s dentist bill after this.”

“Ditto,” Gerard sighs as Zeplin grabs a fistfull and shoves it in his mouth. 

“You can’t go to a carnival without cotton candy,” Patrick insists. 

“Hey, we were going to check out the swings next,” Gerard says, “Wanna come with? It looks like Zeplin and Skylar are hitting it off.”   
  
And just like that, Pete’s staticky anxiety gets put in a nice neat box and shoved to the side. 

Because his daughter has made a  _ friend _ . 

*

Pete spends the rest of the evening walking around the carnival with Gerard and Zeplin. He talks about how he went to school to be a comic book artist, which really blew Pete’s mind. And even more so that he actually has some work published out there.

“His dad is a tattoo artist,” Gerard says, and then beams at Zeplin, “That’s why he’s been insisting on drawing all over himself. He thinks he’s going to be just like dad when he grows up.”

Pete falters a little. It’s not that he didn’t think same sex parents existed, he’s not fucking ignorant, he just hasn’t met any. Which is probably his fault for not  _ trying _ to meet anyone, let alone parents like him. 

“Where is he tonight?” Frank asks. 

“He works evenings sometimes,” Gerard says, then shrugs, “it kinda sucks when our schedules clash, but we make it work.”

“Does Zeplin go to the same school?” Pete asks, sorta hoping he does since it would mean Skylar would have a friend at school.

Gerard’s smile falls a little and he shakes his head. “No, we didn’t want there to be any weirdness with him going to the same school as I teach. He goes to Catholic school, like Frank did. His parent’s help us pay for it.”

Pete sighs, “Oh.”

Gerard gives him a knowing look. “Yeah, I know. It would have been nice for Zeplin to have a friend at school”--then he laughs a little-- “Though with the way he’s going, he’s probably going to get kicked out. He’s not really a fan of rules.”

Pete chuckles, “Yeah somehow I don’t think the nuns would really appreciate the marker tattoos.”

“No,” he grins, “but you know how it is, I can’t really say no to something like that. I’m not going to squash his creativity.”

Pete nods, because he does know how that is. He loves his parents, that’s not...that’s not the issue at all, but he thinks that the way they brought him up was kind of bullshit. There were so many rules in his house and not a lot of breathing room to just be a kid. Things that he does with Skylar, like letting her put kool-aid in her hair to dye her curls different colors, would have never been allowed in his parents house. And while he doesn’t want to put all of his issues on them, because he knows a lot of them are his own, but he can’t help but wonder if he’d feel more sure of himself if he had the support system to let him just be him. 

After a few laps around the rides and some slices of cheese pizza, Gerard nudges Pete. “I bet Patrick’s almost done with his shift,” he says with a knowing smile, “I’ll hang out with the kids for a bit.”

And, fuck, is he really that obvious?

“Thanks,” he says shyly instead of denying anything.

The sun has already set, the carnival grounds only lit up by the neon colors from the rides and the twinkle lights strung over them. He passes a few parents that he recognizes from dropping Skylar off and they give him a nod or a small wave of recognition, and Pete feels taller than he has since Skylar started school. 

It’s nothing big. But just the  _ acknowledgement _ from Skylar’s peers’ parents is enough to make Pete feel like he’s finally doing something right. That he actually feels like a parent and isn’t just playing pretend, just waiting for someone to figure out that he’s a big fake. He needed tonight. Needed to see Skylar laughing with another kid her age who doesn’t shy away from her hyper energy about zombies. Needed to be able to talk to another parent and see that he’s not doing anything wrong with Skylar. 

And he needed to see that look on Patrick’s face. The one he’s looking at right now, like Pete was everything Patrick needed too. 

“Hey,” he says softly as he gets to him.

Patrick smiles and looks down at his shoes before glancing back up at Pete through his lashes. “Wanna go up?”

Pete nods slowly. 

Patrick talks to whoever is in the booth and then takes Pete’s hand and leads him up to the platform to get in a car. Once it’s their turn, Patrick slides in first before pulling Pete to sit next to him. The bar gets pulled over their laps and then they’re moving. 

Pete’s was never a big fan of the ferris wheel when he was a kid, he always thought it was too slow and boring. And maybe it’s because he’s a “boring dad” now, but he really likes that it’s moving slowly. That it’s forcing Pete to just slow down and sit down next to Patrick as they watch themselves hover over the twinkle lights of the carnival. 

“Is Skylar having fun?” Patrick asks softly, and if Pete didn’t know any better, he sounded  _ nervous _ . Which is kinda silly, where’s the Patrick that leaned him up against the car? The one on stage swaying his hips in time with the music? 

Pete turns his head to look at Patrick and he looks sort of ethereal under the neon colors of the ferris wheel washing over him. Splashes of pinks and blues coloring his light hair and kissing his face. His cheeks are a little flushed, from the heat or from something entirely else, Pete’s not exactly sure. His stupid hat is a bit crooked, and Pete finds that subtle disorder endearing, finds the way Patrick’s button up has the top two buttons undone and his tie is loose around his neck. He looks exactly like what Pete wants to come home to every evening. 

Pete cups Patrick’s cheek and leans in, smiling softly at Patrick’s wide eyes. He thinks about the way Patrick swooped in and saved him when he was near a breakdown on Skylar’s first day. Thinks about the music room and how it became sort of a salvation for him, was a place where he could strip away the layers of being a parent and just stand there as Pete in front of Patrick. Thinks about the way he talked to his kid like she was important and worth listening to. About the way he listened to everything that Pete didn’t even have to say, put aside his own wants and waited for Pete to be ready. 

“I’m done hiding,” Pete whispers, then kisses Patrick at the very top of the ferris wheel. High up like they were in their own world, away from curious glances, responsibilities, and fear. Far away from Skylar, where Pete could just be the twenty-five year old who was still young and learning what it could be like to fall in love. 

They were so high up, but Pete wasn’t afraid of falling. 

*

“Are you sure it’s ok?” Patrick whispers when he sits on Pete’s bed. 

Pete stands in front of him and nods slowly. “Yeah, just let me get Skylar into bed,” he says softly. He leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Patrick murmurs. 

Pete pulls himself away from Patrick and goes into Skylar’s room. She’s trying to find the perfect spot to put her goldfish that Gerard won for her. 

“I don’t know whether to thank you or hate you,” Pete had muttered when Gerard handed him the goldfish swimming in a plastic bag. 

Gerard gave him a grin. “We should exchange numbers so Skylar and Zeplin can hang out.”

“Definitely,” Pete had said, pulling out his phone. 

“Here,” Pete says, taking Skylar’s goldfish, “let’s put him on your nightstand.”

She crawls into bed and watches Pete set up the goldfish. “What are we naming this one?” He asks. 

“Um, Sally,” she says, laying her head down on the pillow. Pete can tell he’s not even going to have to read to her tonight, her eyes are already dropping close. 

“Did you have fun with Zeplin?” Pete asks, pushing some curls off her forehead. 

She opens her eyes and nods. “He’s cool,” she says, then she looks at Pete’s hand and starts fiddling with the blankets in her own hands. 

“What is it?” He asks gently, trying to keep his expression neutral.

She looks up at Pete and frowns a little. “Zeplin has two dads.”

Pete knew that this conversation would come up at some point. He wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to talk about sexuality with Skylar, because he didn’t want to make a big deal about it. He didn’t want her to think that there was anything wrong with the fact that Zeplin had two dads or that Pete liked to kiss Patrick.

“Does that bother you?” He asks slowly, trying to gauge where he should start. 

“Well,” she says, pulling at the string that loose in the threading of her blanket, “I’m a little sad that he gets to have  _ two _ dads and I only have one.”

All the air leaves Pete’s chest, because that’s not the kind of answer he’d been expecting. He thought maybe she was curious, because he knew that she had the perception that kids had a mom and dad. He hadn’t done that great of a job with showing her that there were different kinds of families, but she knew that what they were was a bit from the norm. 

“Did I make you sad?” Skylar asks, looking up at him with worried eyes. 

He smiles gently and takes her hand. “No, Sky, you didn’t,” he says, “I know that it’s hard with just us sometimes.”

Skylar looks at their hands. “Why don’t I get to have two parents?”

And the way she says that breaks Pete’s heart, because it sounds like she thinks she’s to blame. He squeezes her hand. “Honey, it’s not your fault. Sometimes it just happens that way.”

Skylar furrows her brows, and Pete knows that she’s trying to process this the best way her five year old brain can. Because sometimes Pete forgets how young she really is. When she plays the air guitar to Metallica with him, it’s easy for him to forget that she’s still so young in this world that even he doesn’t quite understand. 

Pete waits for her to say something else. To ask about her mom maybe, and Pete’s doesn’t want to talk about her mom with Skylar. They’ve talked about it a handful of times, nothing deep though. Just that Skylar’s mom wasn’t ready to be a mom yet. He didn’t want to lie to Skylar and make things worse when she got older and understood what had happened. 

But Skylar just says, “I think I just want to go to sleep.”

Pete keeps himself from frowning, because he doesn’t want to upset her more. He just nods and turns off her lamp so that the only light in the room is the soft pink light coming from her night light. He stays with her until she falls asleep, just sitting next to her and rubbing her back while humming softly.

And then he sits there just a moment longer to let the weight of their conversation sit in his heart, tries to figure out how it feels sitting there. He feels heavy with it, guilty even though none of this is his fault. Well, sometimes he thinks that Skylar’s mom left because of him. Because she couldn’t handle taking care of two children. And he has to push that out of his mind as quickly as it comes, because when he lets himself think too much about his ex, it takes him so long to crawl back out of it. 

Instead, he gets up and goes back to his bedroom. Patrick is still sitting on the bed, looking through the small stacks of poetry books that Pete keeps on his nightstand. He looks so cozy and at home in Pete’s bed. He’s got a pair of Pete’s pajama pants on and a baggy Kiss shirt that almost hangs off his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Patrick says softly, setting down the book he was looking through. 

Pete smiles shyly and goes to his drawers to pull out some pajama pants. He keeps his back turned to Patrick as he gets out of his jeans and pulls on the soft cotton. He takes his shirt off and turns back to Patrick, who is looking at him with a measured look. Like he’s trying not to look like he wants to jump Pete’s bones, but that’s honestly just making Pete want him more. 

He walks slowly over to the bed, watching the way Patrick’s eyes grow warmer under the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Pete crawls onto the bed and staddles Patrick, grinning a little at the way Patrick looks up at him and bites his lip. 

“So,” Pete says softly, settling into his lap, “There’s some things we should probably talk about.”

Patrick nods and rubs slow circles against Pete’s hips with his thumb. “Yeah, probably,” he whispers, and the way that his voice comes out thick and strained makes Pete’s heart flutter under his chest. He’s trying to keep his breathing normal, trying not to overthink this. But he also wants to be careful with this, because this is something important. Something that could be on par with being Skylar’s parent. Because Patrick could be her family one day, could be  _ his _ .

Pete rests his forehead against Patrick’s and traces the curve of his jaw with his fingertips. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispers, feeling brave under the dim lighting. 

“If you do,” Patrick murmurs, “I’ll forgive you anyway.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete stands and leans across the table, cupping Patrick’s chin in his hand and tilting his face up so he can kiss him. He feels Patrick’s soft gasp of surprise before his lips stretch into a smile and Pete is kissing the upturned corners of his mouth. Patrick giggles quietly and says, “Your tie is in my glass of wine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who read and commented on the last chapter. Also, thank you for the well wishes on my interview, I GOT THE JOB <3

Pete had expected there to be an air of awkwardness that next morning, but Skylar didn’t seem to think that it was odd for Patrick to be sitting at their kitchen table eating Apple Jacks. She just put her stool down in front of the counter to get herself down a bowl then sat next to Patrick and asked him to help her pour the milk since it was too full for her to lift on her own. 

The problem with dating while being a single dad was that Pete didn’t really have the luxury of just taking Patrick out to a nice dinner and have the conversation that they’d been skirting around ever since Pete kissed him on the ferris wheel. The first few days were lived in ignorant bliss, brushing kisses after Skylar had gone to bed and behind Patrick’s closed door to the music room. Pete felt giddy even, like he was actually twenty-five and not the middle aged man he felt like sometimes. Patrick made him feel like he could slow down and be a young adult in his mid-twenties able to make mistakes and learn from them. Because he hadn’t been giving himself the breathing room to realize he was still growing up, that just because he had Skylar did not mean that he skipped this whole part of coming into adulthood. Being a dad didn’t make him immune to mistakes. 

But they couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable conversation that was boiling under Pete’s nerves, the one that had a million questions that somehow all indicated that Patrick was going to leave. 

“I’m going to babysit tomorrow night,” Andy says slowly as Pete drains the last of his latte, “So go take your man out on a proper date...and no, takeout on your couch doesn’t count.”   
  
Pete rolls his eyes. “I haven’t been on a date in over five years,” he sighs. 

Andy beams at him. “I know. That’s why I’m coming over to make Skylar the best mac and cheese ever and we’re going to stay up way too late watching movies that are way too old for her.”

Pete chuckles. “I’m pretty sure it can’t be the best mac and cheese if there’s no actual cheese.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Andy sing-songs as he starts wiping down the espresso machine, “And also, I’m crashing on your couch, so I better not see you until your walk of shame the next morning.”

Pete furrows his brows. “Um…”

“Sex, Peter, I’m giving you the night alone without a five year old to worry about,” Andy drawls, “Go rock his world.”

“Oh my God,” Pete sputters, getting up, “I’m leaving now.”

“You didn’t used to be this big of a prude before Skylar.”

“Yeah, because I haven’t had sex since she was an infant,” Pete hisses, aware of the other customers in the cafe looking at him. 

Andy just flashes him a grin and Pete takes that as his cue to leave. He sits in his car for a moment longer than necessary before heading to Skylar’s school to pick her up. He’s running late again, though he always is when he sits at Andy’s cafe in the afternoons. 

Skylar never seems to mind, she’s sitting with Patrick’s guitar, strumming while he holds down the chords for her. She doesn’t even notice Pete at first, too focused on what Patrick is showing her, and he’s feeling that staticky feeling starting to wash over him again. Because she’s already getting so attached to him and they haven’t even gone on a proper date to see if this is something that they can even work out. What if Patrick can’t stand that Pete snores when it’s allergy season, or that he can only eat his M&Ms after he sorts them into colors first? Or worse, what if he sees that Pete is too broken for him to hold together? What if he wakes up one morning and can’t get out of bed and Patrick thinks he’s just being overdramatic? What if he has a panic attack in the middle of the grocery store with Skylar and Patrick sees that he’s not fit to be a parent? What if--

“Pete?”

Pete jumps and blushes when he sees Patrick getting Skylar packed up. She bounces over and takes Pete’s hand. “Did you see, daddy? Can I get a guitar?”

“We’ll see,” he says, because he can only handle one thing at a time and if this thing with Patrick falls apart he’s not going to be able to look at a guitar for awhile, let alone see his daughter play the guitar. 

Patrick tilts his head and starts to follow them out to the parking lot. Pete’s not really sure if there’s some sort of rule that says Patrick can’t date one of the parents, but they’ve been trying to keep it quiet just in case. That and it just makes things a little simpler when Pete and Patrick are still figuring things out between them, they don’t need to add everyone else to the mix too. 

Patrick waits until Pete gets Skylar in her car seat before saying, “Want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Pete turns and leans against the car. “Do you want to go out to dinner tomorrow night? Andy’s offered to babysit.”

Patrick rocks back on his heels and frowns, which isn’t the reaction that Pete expected at all and he starts backpedaling, “Oh, I mean, we don’t have--”

“Pete, stop,” Patrick says with just enough sternness to snap Pete out of it, then he leans in and kisses Pete’s forehead, “I’m just trying to figure out why asking me out made you look like you were sucking on a lemon.”

Pete slides his hands up Patrick’s stomach to play with the edge of his tie. “Just nerves,” he whispers. 

“You know that we sorta skipped a few steps, right?” Patrick chuckles, “You already know I’m all in. The first date jitters shouldn’t still be a thing here.”

“They are,” Pete argues, “they just look a little different.”

Patrick huffs a laugh and looks around the parking lot before cupping Pete’s cheek and kissing him softly. It’s not even a proper kiss, just a brush of lips to remind Pete why they’re doing this. And it works, because Pete’s stomach flutters and his blood feels like slow molten lava, warming up his nerves that seem like they haven’t been touched in half a decade. 

“Dinner sounds good,” Patrick breathes, kissing the tip of Pete’s nose, “Leave the jitters at home though.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Pete grins. 

*

“No, the purple one,” Skylar says, pointing at the purple jacket that Pete is about to hang back up. 

“Purple?” Pete asks with a frown.

Andy takes another loud bite from his apple and nods. “I’m with the kid, she has good taste.”

He gives the purple jacket another uncertain look before slipping it on and looking into the mirror. “You don’t think it’s a bit showy?”

“This coming from the man who’s worn knee high fur boots?” Andy says, rolling his eyes. 

Pete chuckles, yeah, he’s had some interesting fashion choices in the past. He fiddles with some ties that haven’t been worn in years and he’s hoping that wearing a tie is the right move here, because he’s sort of starting to feel like a banker. How is it that Patrick wears ties all the time and looks like fucking sex every time?

“Here,” Andy says, getting off the bed and handing Skylar his apple before taking the grey tie from Pete’s hands and wrapping it around his collar. “Relax, you look great.”

Pete had called his mom and asked her for recommendations for something “a little more upscale.”

“Are you going on a date?” She had squealed and then went into, “Who is it? Do I get to meet them? Have they met Skylar?”

And Pete had to sigh and sit down with a beer before telling her all about Patrick. How he’s Skylar’s teacher and that brings its own set of complications. He tells her about the pizza date and how Skylar basically interviewed him to see if he was good enough for her dad, which makes his mom laugh. Then there had been a few breathless rants about Pete’s uncertainty about it all, how he’s not sure he’ll be able to pick up the pieces if someone walks out on him and Skylar again. 

“It’s something you just have to take a chance on,” his mom had said gently, “You can’t put your life on hold because you’re scared.”

So Pete lets Andy finish with his tie and step back, looking like a proud parent. Skylar beams at him and bounces on the bed. Pete walks over to her and picks her up, hugging her and she must know how torn up Pete feels right now, because she blinks up at him then bares her teeth at him and growls. 

“Game face,” She says, poking at his cheek.

Pete wants to cry a little, because that’s his job. He’s the one who’s supposed to life her up and make her feel brave, but he shows his teeth and growls back. 

“You two are the biggest dorks ever,” Andy says, but he’s smiling fondly at them and comes over to take Skylar from Pete. No doubt so that Pete doesn’t cling to her like a teddy bear and finds an excuse to back out. “You already went out with the guy before.”

“It’s not the same,” Pete mutters, walking into the bathroom and when Andy follows he says, “It’s not really a date when you’re daughter is tagging along--no offense, kiddo.”

Skylar shrugs, because she’s not really getting the whole deal. He can tell she’s a little confused, Pete never leaves the house without her. He kept having to tell her she doesn’t have to put her shoes on when Pete started gathering his clothes to go out.

“You’re going to be late,” Andy says.

“Story of my life,” Pete sighs, but he stops fiddling with his hair in the mirror and walks out of the room. 

He hesitates once he grabs his keys, phone, and wallet. “Um, so…”

“I know how to take care of Sky, just go already,” Andy says. 

Pete frowns and goes over to Skylar who’s still in Andy’s arms. He kisses her forehead. “Have fun tonight, ok?”

She nods, eyes dimming a little when she’s starting to catch up to the fact that Pete’s not coming home tonight. Pete’s hands itch towards his phone, ready to call Patrick and tell him to just come over here and they’ll order pizza, but Andy gives him a stern look. “We’ll be alright,” Andy promises him. 

“I love you,” he says to Skylar, ruffling her hair. 

Skylar says it back in a small voice that breaks Pete’s heart. Andy mouths, “Go”, before turning away and carrying Skylar to the other room so she doesn’t see him leave. He hurries out of the apartment and sits in his car, his eyes hot with tears, but he doesn’t want to show up to the restaurant with red eyes so he waits for himself to settle. 

He should have done all of this way earlier. Skylar’s at the age where she shouldn’t look at him like he’s abandoning her when he leaves the apartment without her. He knows that he’s creating some major separation anxiety issues that they’re going to have to address at some point, that he’s let her be so dependent on him because he’s also dependent on her. He’s never wanted to be anywhere without her, still doesn’t. 

But he starts the car and heads towards the restaurant because he knows that this thing with Patrick is worth it. Deep down, nestled in the conversations he’s had with Andy and his mom, he knows that he needs to start working on himself and putting his own happiness up front right next to Skylar’s or he’s going to break down. He can’t keep pushing himself to the side to build her up, because he’s just creating a faulty foundation for her to stand on. She can’t be the best version of herself if he’s not the best version of himself. 

At least that’s what he’s telling himself when he parks and gets out of the car. 

_ You deserve this _ , he reminds himself as he walks through the tables and spots Patrick, sitting in the corner of the restaurant with a menu in his hands. He always looks good, looks so put together but still effortless that makes Pete melt. Patrick looks up as Pete makes his way to him, smiling and lighting up the table more than the candles that are set up on the tablecloth. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

Pete takes his seat. “Hey,” he says, “Sorry I’m late, I had a bit of a dad crisis.”

Patrick reaches out to put his hand on top of Pete’s. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” he says softly, “so thank you for trying anyway.”

Pete turns his hand and tangles their fingers before bringing them up to his lips and kissing Patrick’s knuckles. “I want to be here. I don’t want you to think it’s a chore to be with you, it’s just…”

“I know,” Patrick says softly, his eyes warming like Pete’s said something right. 

Pete’s about to ask, but he’s interrupted by the waiter who tells them the specials and sets down the wine list. Pete scoots the list to Patrick and winks at him, “You pick.”

Which was clearly the right choice because Patrick scans the list and orders a bottle of something with confidence that Pete knows isn’t staged to impress him. Pete’s always been a whatever-is-on-special beer kind of guy. He goes through the menu, knowing he’s probably just going to get the fettuccine because his pallet is very similar to a five-year-old's these days. 

Patrick keeps Pete busy with small talk about the kids at school and what they’re learning these next few weeks. He talks about parent-teacher conferences coming up, which makes Pete a little nervous, and how they finally got a better kettle in the teacher’s lounge before saying, “You know, I can keep this up all night, but I’m sorta waiting for you to start with the serious talk.”

Pete takes a sip of his wine that was brought over, liking that it’s red and will get the job done quickly. He already feels a little buzz of liquid courage. “I can’t do casual,” Pete says, because he’s pretty sure that’s a good place to start.

Patrick raises an eyebrow. “Did I give you the impression that I was looking to just be fuck buddies?”

Pete busies himself with the rest of his wine, because well, Patrick definitely didn’t seem like he was just in it for the sex. He probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to make sure that Skylar liked him if he was just going to leave, but, “I didn’t want to assume. It’s kind of a lot.”

“What’s a lot?”   
  
“Dating me,” Pete sighs, sitting back in his hair and staring at his empty glass. 

Patrick frowns and pours him another glass. “Because you have Skylar?”

“That’s part of it,” Pete says, running his finger along the edge of the glass. “I’m in no way saying you have to be her parent, I’m not asking that...but you’re sorta getting thrown into a family right away. There’s a lot of steps we’re skipping.”

Patrick shakes his head. “Not skipping, just doing differently. I know what I’m signing up for, Pete. I wouldn’t have initiated anything if I didn’t.”   
  
Pete leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, something his mom would huff at if she could see him now. “It’s not just my heart you’ll break if you leave,” he whispers, staring down at the white table cloth, a little amazed that they’d risk white with all this wine.

“I know that,” Patrick says just as soft, and Pete appreciates that he doesn’t reach out to take his hand this time. “And I can’t promise you that I won’t leave.”

Pete wants to zone out at that, he doesn’t want to hear this rational part of Patrick that he’s starting to learn. Patrick who won’t spit out fairytales like Pete reads in his poetry books, but says the logical thing. Because, yeah, Pete knows that Patrick can’t guarantee that he’ll never leave him and Skylar, but that’s what he really wants to hear right now. Even if it’s false assurance, it’s what he needs. 

“But I can promise that I’ll do everything I can to stay,” Patrick continues, and he sighs heavily, causing Pete to look up and see the slight anguish on his face. He wants to reach out for him, to smooth away the lines of discontentment off his face, but the waiter returns to take their order. 

Patrick snorts a little when Pete orders the fettuccine and then takes another sip of wine as the waiter leaves and says, “My parents divorced when I wasn’t much older than Skylar.”

Pete’s heart sinks a little. He can’t imagine putting Skylar through that, let alone going through that himself. And he suddenly wants to go home and hug Skylar again.

“So I wouldn’t put myself in her life,” Patrick continues, “I wouldn’t let her get comfortable seeing us together and building a life with her if I thought that this wouldn't work out. I won’t do that to her, not after I know what it feels like.”

Pete watches him drain the rest of his glass, then says, “I’m sorry.”

Patrick shrugs, pouring himself another glass. “It’s fine. It wasn’t super ugly or anything, no horrible custody battles. It still hurt though.”

Pete nods and rubs his foot against Patrick’s leg under the table, which makes him smile a little. “I just don’t want you to think I’m not taking this seriously. I want what you think is going to drive me away. You think I don’t want to have Christmases with you and Skylar? Or wander around the zoo with her while I hold your hand. Or just watch the way you interact with her because, babe, it’s part of the reason I’m falling for you. And--”   
  
Pete stands and leans across the table, cupping Patrick’s chin in his hand and tilting his face up so he can kiss him. He feels Patrick’s soft gasp of surprise before his lips stretch into a smile and Pete is kissing the upturned corners of his mouth. Patrick giggles quietly and says, “Your tie is in my glass of wine.”

*

Pete decides not to call Andy when he pulls up to Patrick’s apartment, instead he just sends a text: “Everything ok?”

To which Andy sent him a GIF of someone rolling their eyes. Pete sighs and gets out of the car, walking over to where Patrick is waiting for him at the entrance. “All good at home?”

Pete chuckles. “Yeah, Andy is holding down the fort.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” Patrick says, opening the door, “He sounds like quite the character.”

Pete hums at that, wondering what that’s going to be like when they do finally meet. And then Pete starts thinking of introducing Patrick to his parents, and honestly, he’d like to put that off as long as possible. 

Pete follows Patrick up to his apartment and smiles when Patrick hesitates a little, like he’s trying to think if he left anything embarrassing out, then decides its safe and ushers Pete in. Patrick’s apartment is just a bigger version of his music room, just with more furniture. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Patrick asks. 

“Just a water,” Pete says, because he doesn’t want any more alcohol clouding his judgement, he’s just on the good buzzed side of tipsy. He walks over to Patrick’s bookshelf and smiles at the familiar titles and tries to memorize the ones he doesn’t recognize. There’s a few photos cluttered around the books, a lot of Patrick looking younger. His fedora used to be a trucker hat apparently and wow, sideburns were never a thing that Pete thought he’d think was cute, but here Patrick is proving him wrong again. 

“Here,” Patrick says softly, and Pete turns to take the water out of his hands. 

He’s glad to have something in his hands, something he can focus on and keep himself moving as Patrick ushers him to the couch. Patrick takes a sip of his water like he’s unsure of himself too and Pete chuckles, “This is a little silly, isn’t it?”

Patrick grins and sets his glass on the coffee table, then takes Pete’s glass and sets it down as well before filling Pete’s hands with himself. Pete meets Patrick’s kiss and this is much better. This he knows how to do. This he can turn his mind off and just let Patrick take the lead. 

Patrick hums when Pete goes compliant under his hands, the tension in his shoulders from their conversation at the dinner table melting away as Patrick tugs at Pete’s wine stained tie. 

The tie was a good choice. 

Pete pushes Patrick’s jacket off his shoulders and mouths at the pulse point under his ear, careful not to leave a mark since they’re not teenagers, but just teasing enough to make them feel like they’re that kind of reckless. Patrick gets Pete’s jacket off and has his belt unbuckled when he whispers, “As much as I know we like couches, there’s a bed that might be better for this.”

Pete pulls away, just enough to look at Patrick and let that sink in. And he does a quick run through of why this could be a bad idea, but the way Patrick is looking at him shouts over all those insecurities and he feels his head nod. 

Patrick takes Pete’s hand and leads him to the bedroom. He turns on a lamp and the room is illuminated in a warm glow, showing all the earthy tones that are splashed over the walls and the bed. Patrick pulls Pete to the foot of the bed and kisses him again, slow and sensual, not rushing in the way that Pete thought they might have when they got to this point. He remembers the night on the couch and how strong the pull was in Pete to just devour Patrick. 

This is different though. Pete feels like he has all the time in the world to taste Patrick, to get used to how his tongue feels against his teeth, how his lips fit pillowy soft against his. He spends his time slowly unbuttoning Patrick’s shirt after he removed his tie. He’s met with an undershirt, but Patrick blushes like he’s stark naked already. 

Patrick slips Pete’s tie off with ease like he’s done this a million times and pushes his dress shirt to the floor, kissing at the thorns that wrap around his neck. Pete’s fingers weave into Patrick’s crazed blond hair and he pulls just hard enough for Patrick’s face to tilt up towards Pete so he can kiss him again, like he’s a drug that Pete can’t be away from. 

Pete hooks his arms under Patrick’s thighs and he lifts him before setting him back on the bed. He crawls over Patrick, pushing up his undershirt along the way and then pulling it up and over Patrick’s head. Patrick’s blush goes down to his chest and Pete chuckles softly, brushing his lips over the flushed skin. Patrick tries to cover himself, but Pete’s not having any of that. He entwines their hands and presses them against the mattress. He kisses Patrick’s sternum and looks up at him through his lashes before pressing kisses lower and lower. Patrick holds his gaze until Pete dips his tongue under Patrick’s waistband, Patrick’s eyes rolling back and mutters, “fuck,” in a ragged voice. 

Pete releases Patrick’s hands and feels his pants tighten at the fact that Patrick doesn’t remove them from where he had held them down. He unbuckles Patrick’s belt and slides it out of the loops of his pants, the slide of the belt against the fabric echoing through Pete’s ears. He holds Patrick’s gaze, hesitating for Patrick to back out if he wants, but then finishes undressing him when he doesn’t. 

Pete sits back onto his heels to let his eyes drink in Patrick, laying out in front of him with his pale skin stark against the dark sheets, glowing under the warmth of the lamp. He can tell that this is a big deal to Patrick, that he’s fighting the urge to hide in the blankets under his gaze. Pete leans back over him and whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

Patrick’s Adam's apple bobs and Pete can hear him swallow before he leans up to kiss him, at a loss for words. Pete lets Patrick pour all the emotion he can’t vocalize into that kiss, spurring the heat that’s igniting in Pete’s veins. He’s shaky with it when Patrick finally releases him and Pete’s gone at that point. He mouths at Patrick’s chest, working his way down his stomach and kissing the softness of his hips. He kicks off his own pants and settles between Patrick’s legs, holding his thighs apart to pepper them with slow and soft kisses. 

“Pete,” Patrick breathes, on the edge of begging and Pete grins devilishly before ghosting over Patrick’s cock that’s straining for attention. Instead he presses open mouthed kisses at his lower belly, causing Patrick to growl, “ _ Pete _ .”

Pete raises an eyebrow, because he could definitely get used to a bossy Patrick in bed. “Something you want?” He teases, but he gives in and takes the head of Patrick’s cock into his mouth. 

“S’not nice to tease,” Patrick breathes, then gasps as Pete takes him deeper, not stopping until his nose is pressed into Patrick’s public hair. Pete breathes in and,  _ fuck _ , he’d forgotten how good this could be. And he wonders for a moment if it was ever  _ this good _ . Because he’s lost in it, lost in the instinct of sucking, of licking, tasting, teasing just there. And he’s lost in the smell of Patrick, of sex filling the room. Of the taste of him, the weight of him on his tongue, of the delicious stretch of his lips and the dull ache in his jaw. 

“Pete,” Patrick breathes, a warning. 

Pete doesn’t pull back. He’s not sure he could at this point, the only thing on his mind is how Patrick would taste coming down his throat, how he would sound when Pete swallows around him. And when Patrick does shout out, his hips bucking and Pete almost gags on the intensity of it, but he swallows down the salty taste of him like he’s starved for it. 

He presses soft kisses on the top of his thighs as Patrick comes down, bringing him back to the bedroom gently. “Hey,” he murmurs, sliding up to kiss Patrick and Patrick moans at the mixed taste of them. 

Patrick pushes down Pete’s boxer briefs and wraps his hand around his cock. Pete’s head snaps forward and he whimpers into Patrick’s neck, “I’m not going to last.”

Patrick doesn’t let up though, just kisses down the curve of Pete’s jaw and murmurs encouragement, whispers praises and promises until Pete’s nonsensical babbling chokes on itself and he’s coating Patrick’s hand and their stomachs. Pete’s arms are shaking, but he doesn’t want to move out of Patrick’s arms, doesn’t want to leave this space that’s warm and safe, and  _ loving _ . 

Patrick brushes his lips at Pete’s temple, his sticky hand petting at Pete’s hip. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, using his other hand to press gently down on Pete’s lower back so he lays against Patrick. He should be grossed out that he’s laying in his own cum, should think that Patrick will think less of him for being clingy and gross after sex. 

But it’s hard when Patrick cradles the back of Pete’s head like he’s something to cherish and repeats softly, “I’ve got you, honey.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me help.”
> 
> It’s a loaded request. It’s not just helping get Skylar out of the car without waking her up. It’s Patrick asking for Pete’s trust with his daughter. To let him be a bigger part of her life than just her dad’s boyfriend.

Pete hasn’t dated anyone in a long time. He’s had casual flings and hookups for sure, but not the real kind of dating. Not the stealing syrupy, morning after kisses. The bashful smiles and lingering goodbye touches. The silly text messages only ten minutes after Pete leaves.

“You look like you had fun,” Andy had grinned when Pete walked in still wearing his goofy smile and Patrick’s hoodie. 

“Yeah,” Pete had said softly and he waited for Andy to say  _ I told you so _ or some kind of crude joke. 

Instead Andy just put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Good for you, man.”

And the world hadn’t fallen apart while he was gone. The apartment didn’t burn down. Skylar still remembered him when he went into her room to wake her up. She had grinned up at him like he was still her favorite person in the world, even though he had left her all night. This was fine. 

This was perfect. 

And so Pete sort of has been waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s been a couple weeks since their dinner out. A couple weeks of sneaking kisses in the school parking lot and Andy babysitting (or him taking over the apartment and pushing Pete out the door). And he kept waiting for the feeling of wanting to run away, or more realistically, for Patrick to run. Because he sort of unleashed the floodgates. 

Pete kept texting him throughout the day. Anything. His thoughts on the Jeopardy episode he watched during his lunch break. A picture of the back of his cereal box. Quotes from his favorite movies. Lyrics from a song he heard while taking Skylar to school. And poetry. 

His poetry. 

At first Pete had hovered over the send icon, debating if this was too far. If this was too personal to share with Patrick. But then he sent it and that was that. 

Patrick didn’t say anything about them, nothing like “this is shity” or “you’re such a great writer”. He would just respond like they were having a conversation. Like the various quotes, pictures, thoughts, and poetry were just how Pete communicated. And it was how he thought, in chunks of chaos, but no one had been able to read it and fully understand what Pete was trying to say. Patrick just replied back as if he was picking up the conversation.

Patrick doesn’t get annoyed with him. Or at least to the point that he shuts Pete out. He  _ does _ get annoyed. Pete’s learned that Patrick gets annoyed easily. He sighs dramatically, shakes his head, rolls his eyes and Pete finds it absolutely endearing. Which sort of spooks him. He’s never been so wrapped up in someone that their seemingly unflattering qualities still made Pete want more. 

They’re at the point of knowing each other where they’ve stopped trying to charm one another. And this, Pete thinks, this is when Patrick will leave. Because Pete gets clingy and invades his personal space. Beyond the multiple streams of text messages throughout the day, Pete crawls into Patrick’s lap as soon as he sits on his couch, or he’ll lean against him while they’re cooking dinner. He follows him around when they’re at Patrick’s apartment, hooks his chin over his shoulder when he’s sitting on his laptop trying to fiddle with Garageband. 

At first Patrick allowed it, trying to test out the waters. After so many weeks of waiting for Pete to settle into just the  _ idea _ of dating, Patrick seemed to like the affection. But, he could see that it was getting to be too much. Saw the stressed annoyance in Patrick’s eyes, and the tightness of his lips, but he couldn’t stop. 

Pete knows he’s broken. He knows that it goes back much further than his ex leaving him with an infant in his arms. That if he would get the help that Andy has been trying to get him to seek, he’d be a much better boyfriend. Or just a person for that matter. But, no, instead of going to more therapy to talk about his abandonment issues or taking medication for his anxiety and whatever else was fucking wrong with the chemicals in his brain, he pushed it down and played house all these years. And so, yeah, this is probably going to get really messy. 

“Pete, I need to breathe,” Patrick had finally snapped. 

There was a moment of Patrick breathing heavy, from annoyance and apprehension of Pete’s reaction. But Pete had just removed himself from Patrick’s side and slid to the other side of the couch. It had stung, but it was needed. 

Pete was learning all of this all over again, maybe even for the first time. He didn’t need someone who would baby him and then up and leave on day. There was something deeply comforting in Patrick’s temper, because it meant he was going to fight for them. For Pete. 

“When are we going to tell Skylar?” Patrick asks softly, kissing the back of Pete’s neck. 

Skylar’s at Gerard and Frank’s house playing with Zeplin, something that Pete and Gerard have been trying to do once every other week at least. Sometimes Zeplin will come over to their apartment and they’ll have a Star Wars marathon, paired with Yoda shaped cookies from Andy. Typically though, Skylar likes to go over to Zeplin’s house because they live in the suburbs and have a backyard to play in. They’re even talking about getting a pool next summer. Pete’s pretty sure he’s hardly going to see his daughter when that happens. 

“I didn’t expect to lose her to a boy this young,” Pete had sighed and Patrick just rolled his eyes playfully and patted his knee. 

“I’m just waiting for the right time,” Pete says now, stirring in the cheese sauce for their very grown up dinner of Velveeta Shells and Cheese. 

“I don’t think there’s going to be a ‘right time’,” Patrick sighs, opening a bottle of wine. Because they might be eating boxed pasta, but Patrick is sort of an alcohol snob. He pours a glass and hands it to Pete. “Just rip off the band-aid. I’m tired of hiding.”

Pete knows it’s not fair. There’s part of him that likes keeping Patrick a secret, kind of keeping him to himself and indulging in quiet nights over at his apartment. It took them only a couple more times before Skylar barely even blinked an eye as Pete kissed the top of her head and left her in Andy’s care. But, it’s starting to eat away at him. He feels like a shitty parent everytime he sneaks away for an evening. 

And then of course, there’s the part of Pete that’s terrified of Skylar getting used to having Patrick around the house. Having dinners with them and then sitting at the same table the next morning with clear bedhead. Of Patrick helping Skylar with her homework and teaching her how to tie her shoes. Of Skylar becoming reliant on Patrick. 

“Pete,” Patrick says gently, placing his hand at the small of Pete’s back.

“I’ll tell her,” Pete says, “When she gets home from Zeplin’s house.”

Patrick smiles at him and Pete’s instantly filled with those warm and fuzzy feelings that remind him that he’s not fucking up. At least not yet. Patrick comes behind Pete and wraps his arms around Pete’s hips and pulls him back against his chest. It’s not that Patrick isn’t affectionate, he’s just not as handsy as Pete, so when he initiates the physical contact, Pete drinks it all up. 

“Thank you,” Patrick murmurs against his shoulder, “for everything.”

Pete blushes and tries to focus on stirring the artificial yellow noodles on the stove. “What do you mean?”

“Letting go,” Patrick says, rubbing circles with his thumbs on Pete’s hips. “Letting Skylar spend the day at a friend's house. Letting Andy watch her while you spend time with me. I know it’s hard for you to let up on the reigns, but I really appreciate you trying.”

While Patrick might be easily annoyed by Pete’s insistence on playing all music at the same deafening volume or him leaving candy wrappers on Patrick’s nightstand after staying up all night on his phone. While he huffs and rolls his eyes at Pete for putting on Terminator  _ again _ or using the last of his toothpaste without saying anything, he always makes sure to shower Pete with compliments, encouragements, and gratitude. 

“You’re worth it,” Pete says softly. 

Patrick reaches out and turns off the stove before spinning Pete around and kissing him. Pete also thought that this might get boring, at least for Patrick. Especially since they haven’t really done anything but blow each other and give messy handjobs. And Pete’s not even sure why he’s hesitating. There’s times, just like now, where Patrick lowers Pete onto the mattress and drowns the insecurities that are threatening to bubble out of Pete with smothering kisses. Where he strips Pete like he’s opening a present, like Pete is something he’s been wanting for years. Kisses and strokes his skin like he’s worshiping Pete, slowly breaking down those walls that Pete’s spent five years building.

And Pete wants to give in, wants to give Patrick anything he wants, but when Patrick brushes against his opening, Pete tenses. Patrick will look up at Pete, look past the mask of  _ just do it _ , and kiss him gently before wrapping his slick hand around his cock instead. And Pete will shatter under Patrick’s hands and lips without feeling guilty, without feeling pressured or like he’s letting Patrick down. 

Because they’re alright. There’s no reason to panic.

*

“Am I supposed to wear a blazer to this thing?” Pete asks, shifting the phone on his shoulder so that he can flip through his closet. 

“Just wear what you always do,” Patrick says breezily, even though Pete knows he’s on edge too. Patrick’s been trying not to talk about parent-teacher conferences so that he doesn’t freak out Pete, but he’s a little frazzled as well. 

Patrick is a music guy. He’s great at talking about chord progression and vocal ranges, but he’s shit at talking about academic lingo. He’s not great under pressure, especially in front of authority figures. Whenever Pete sees Patrick talking to Joe, he just wants to go over to him and hug him. And it’s not like Joe is a mean guy, of course he’s not, it’s just that Patrick’s own anxiety shows itself whenever he has to sell himself. When he has to prove that he knows what he’s talking about, and that he’s good enough to be a teacher at this school and in charge of these kids. 

“What are you wearing?” Pete asks, and he lowers his voice into a dramatic pornographic tone. 

He grins when he hears the huff of laughter from Patrick, like he’s trying to be annoyed but just can’t help it. Pete loves pulling that side out of Patrick. 

“A blazer.”

“Fucker,” Pete mutters, pulling out a sweater that doesn’t look like there’s been grape juice spilled on it, “You’re just trying to set me up for disaster.”

Patrick chuckles, “You’ll be fine. Hayley loves Skylar.”

“Yeah she also ratted me out when Skylar was late those couple weeks I was trying to avoid you.”

Patrick makes that disapproving sound that sounds like he’s sucking his tongue at the roof of his mouth, “Shouldn’t have done that.”

“What else is new?”   


“She has to report tardiness to the office. She didn’t do it to be malicious.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Finish getting dressed,” Patrick says softly, “I’ll see you there. We can get pancakes afterwards.”

“Only if we go to the pancake house by our apartment, Skylar likes that they have sprinkles.”

“Of course,” Patrick says fondly. 

Telling Skylar about Patrick had been deeply anti-climatic. And well, Pete didn’t really tell Skylar, not really. Once she got home from Zeplin’s house, Patrick reheated the macaroni that was on the stove and poured it out onto three plates. And then Pete just kissed Patrick. Right there in the kitchen in front of his daughter while he was holding a pot, dripping processed cheese on the tilted floor. 

Patrick’s cheeks were redder than Pete had ever seen and they both turned and looked at Skylar like it was some cheesy sitcom. Skylar just grinned at them, a sort of knowing smile that looked too grown up on her childish face.

She was definitely way too smart for her own good. 

“Will Patrick be there?” Skylar asks, dragging in her oversized stuffed hippogriff. 

Pete flicks off some lint from his sweater and nods. “Yes, and we’re getting pancakes afterwards with him.”

“At the sprinkle place?” She asks suspiciously. 

Pete squats down to get eye level with her and to fix her crooked bow. “Only if you behave and make me look like the greatest dad in the world.”

She grins and winks at him. 

The drive to Skylar’s school goes by a lot quicker than Pete wants it to. He contemplates blowing the whole thing off and telling Hayley that he got the stomach flu or plague and just deal with the embarrassment later. But Skylar is already getting herself out of her carseat and opening the door, which sort of throws Pete for a loop. 

He doesn’t know if it’s from starting school or hanging out with Zeplin, or both, but she’s starting to gain this independence that Pete has mixed feelings about. On one hand he’s thrilled and even proud that she’s carrying herself so strongly, that she’s making her own decisions without waiting for Pete to make them for her. But on the other hand, he feels like he’s getting pushed to the side a little, like a raggedy teddy bear that Skylar’s grown bored of. 

Pete gets out of the car and takes Skylar’s hand, feeling like she’s the one leading him into the school instead of the other way around. It’s a madhouse when they walk in, there’s way too many bodies shoved into the halls and it’s making Pete’s skin crawl. He feels Skylar tug on his hand, still walking forward, and for a brief, terrifying moment, he thinks that maybe they’ll get separated in the crowd. 

He hangs on and follows her towards Hayley’s classroom, he keeps looking around to see if he can find Patrick, but he hasn’t found him yet. The parent-teacher conference is set up so that the parents travel around the classrooms to chat with the teachers and see what their kids have been up to for the first part of school. 

Once they get to Hayley’s classroom, they time it right so that she’s finishing up with a family when they arrive. Her face lights up when she sees Skylar and beams at Pete. “Hey guys!”

Skylar goes right to Hayley and gives her a hug before pulling on Pete so that she can show him where her desk is. He smiles as she pulls out coloring pages and worksheets to show him. Hayley comes over with some papers and gets settled in a desk by them. 

“So Skylar’s doing great,” Hayley starts and Pete is waiting for the “but” to come. “She’s really strong in reading, she’s reading on a higher level than the rest of the class for sure.”

Pete beams at Skylar and nods along as Hayley shows him some math worksheets that they’ve worked on and that Skylar is having a hard time learning her shapes, so Pete makes a mental note of that. 

“She’s still not a fan of group activities,” Hayley says softly, looking at Skylar playing with blocks in the corner of the room where there’s a big rug laid out.

“Yeah, we’re working on making friends,” Pete sighs. 

Hayley smiles sympathetically.

Luckily all the extracurricular classrooms are in the same hall. Skylar shakes her head when Pete heads towards the gym. “I don’t like gym class,” she mumbles. 

And it only took about five minutes talking to Mr. Byar to figure out why. He picked Skylar up and hurried out of the gym before he decked him in the jaw for saying he’d have to fail her in gym if she didn’t learn to jump rope. 

He’s still fuming when he gets to the art room. Gerard is packing up some papers when he sees Skylar bounce in and he grins, “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey,” she chirps then goes over to Gerard’s desk like she’s just at home in here and pulls out a box of crayons and some construction paper. She grabs some safety scissors, but Gerard takes them from her. “Let’s just stick to crayons and paper for right now.”

She huffs a little but goes to one of the tables and starts to draw. 

Gerard turns to Pete and shrugs. “It’s always a pain picking up after they go at construction paper with scissors.”

Pete chuckles a little, relaxing more now that he’s in familiar territory. 

“Hey,” Gerard says shuffling through papers, “I wanted to show you something.” He finds the papers he’s looking for and hands them to Pete. “So Sky is really talented.”

And it wasn’t that Pete’s never seen her draw before, just not like this. There’s pages full of zombies, robots, sea monsters, and werewolves. But they’re not just crayon scribbles, they’re incredibly detailed and he can’t really believe they came from his daughter. 

“I like to submit a collection of my student’s work to the Art Institute. They always have a show at the end of the year to show off the art that kids in Chicago are doing and I’d really like to send in some of Skylar’s drawings if that’s ok with you,” Gerard continues. 

Pete looks up and takes in Gerard’s expression. He’s not mocking or trying to be nice just because their kids are friends. He really thinks that highly of Skylar. “Yeah...wow, yeah, that would be great.”

Gerard beams. “Great! I’ll give you more details once the show gets closer, you know, dates and times and all that. You and Patrick will probably want to go to the opening.”

Pete freezes at first, and it’s not like Gerard is clueless about his relationship with Patrick. He’d been subjected to frantic texts about the possibility of scarring Skylar and Gerard had just sent back offers to babysit if he and Patrick ever wanted alone time. But the way that Gerard had just assumed that Patrick would go to the art opening sort of hit Pete right in the heart. Because Gerard made it sound like they were a unit. Like Patrick was Skylar’s parent, and Pete wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that yet. 

He’s still a little dazed when they finally make it to Patrick’s classroom. He’s in there by himself, packing up and putting his jacket on. He looks up and smiles when they walk in. And it’s not hard to pretend that they’re coming home and Patrick is waiting for them. Or better, that Patrick is the home they’re returning to. 

“Hey, I was just about to come looking for you two,” Patrick says softly.

Skylar rushes over to Patrick and puts her arms up, so Patrick squats down to hug her. “How’d it go?” He asks like Skylar’s been on a secret mission. 

“Daddy almost hit the Mr. Byar,” Skylar whisper-giggles. 

Patrick presses his lips together to keep from laughing then says, “Well hitting isn’t very nice, is it?”   


Skylar shrugs, like she doesn’t want to say what she’s really thinking. Patrick chuckles and ruffles her hair. “I know what you mean,” he says, standing up. He walks over to Pete, who meets him halfway and leans on him, sighing dramatically. 

Patrick rubs his back. “I think we’re in need of some pancakes.”

*

Skylar falls asleep on the way home from the restaurant, and Pete’s not really surprised after the huge stack of sprinkle pancakes she ate. Patrick’s car pulls up to his in the parking lot and he gets out, coming over to Pete’s car. 

Pete wrestles with the takeout containers containing leftovers as he gets out of the car. He’s trying to balance the styrofoam boxes while undoing Skylar’s car seat when Patrick puts his hand on Pete’s hip. “Let me help.”

It’s a loaded request. It’s not just helping get Skylar out of the car without waking her up. It’s Patrick asking for Pete’s trust with his daughter. To let him be a bigger part of her life than just her dad’s boyfriend. And it’s what Pete had been warning Patrick of since they started this whole dance, that dating him didn’t just mean dating him. It meant being a part of Skylar’s life, but they hadn’t really pushed it yet because it was early and Patrick was still letting Pete adjust. 

But now Patrick is pushing. Well not really pushing, just nudging. 

So Pete steps back and smiles softly. Patrick returns the smile, and that’s all he does to show that he understands because he also knows better than to make this a bigger deal that it needs to be. He knows by now not to give Pete an inch or he’ll make a mile out of it. 

Patrick unbuckles Skylar from the car seat and carefully pulls her out of the car. Pete’s heart swells at how Skylar instinctively wraps her arms around Patrick’s neck and lays her head on his shoulder. He also doesn’t miss the way Patrick pauses and places his hand on her back, his expression the same sort of amazed/shocked/loved expression he sometimes caught in the mirror during those first years with Skylar. 

Pete gets the car door shut, and the sound of the metal snapping together breaks whatever thoughts Patrick was living in. They make their way to the apartment and Pete lets them in. He sets the takeout on the kitchen, fully ready to take over and put Skylar to bed, but Patrick carries her to her bedroom. 

Pete follows and hovers by the open door, watching as Patrick sets her down on the bed and takes off her shoes before pulling the blankets up to her chin. He clicks on her nightlight by the bed then looks up and pauses under Pete’s gaze. 

Pete knows that Patrick is maybe freaking out a little internally, like he somehow crossed a line. And Pete hasn’t really stopped to think how Patrick is processing all of this. How it must be difficult for Patrick to not only navigate this new relationship with Pete, but also find a balance with his role in Skylar’s life. 

Pete holds out his hand, and Patrick’s expression softens before coming to him and lacing their fingers together. Pete kisses him soft, sweet, and promising. “Thank you,” he murmurs, squeezing Patrick’s hand. 

“For what?” Patrick whispers, pulling back to look at him. 

For waiting for him to get his shit together. For not freaking out when he got clingy and emotional. For calling him out on his bad habits. For being someone Skylar reactively pulls closer. For pausing and checking in with Pete  _ again _ . For being exactly who Pete needs right now. 

“Being you,” Pete answers instead, hoping that encompasses everything he’s feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes he lets himself dream bigger, images like looking down at his left hand and seeing a band wrapped around his ring finger or looking over at Patrick and seeing him with greying hair. Things that Pete thinks should have made him breathless, but tended to be reasons to breathe instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know it's the beginning of July, but I want it to be Halloween...sue me.

Halloween is easily one of Pete’s favorite holidays, and it really only got better after he had a kid because now he gets to go out trick-or-treating without all the weird stares. And he has the coolest kid who always wants the most extravagant costumes, and she’s not disappointing this year. 

“So…” Patrick starts, picking up the plastic piping that was sitting on his coffee table. “Tell me why you’re painting this here?”

“I know, I know,” Pete huffs, “But I lost track of time and I’m falling behind schedule.”

Patrick just raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Pete looks up from his project. “Are you kicking me out?” He asks with his best puppy dog eyes. 

Patrick sighs, and his stern teacher's face breaks into a soft smile, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Pete beams at him and leans over to kiss his cheek before returning to the task of painting the plastic grey. “I think I’m going to add sparkles too,” he muses. 

“Not here you’re not,” Patrick grumbles, pulling out a stack of worksheets to grade, “I’ll be sweeping until I die.”

Pete scoffs then wrinkles his noses. “Why are you grading papers? I thought you were a music teacher.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Music theory.”

Pete furrows his brow. “Music theory?”  
  
Patrick looks up at him like he’s grown another head, his hand hovered over the stack of papers with a red ink pen, “Um, yeah. You know...reading music?”

Pete shrugs. “I don’t know, I just thought music was supposed to be fun.”

“Music theory is fun!”

Pete chuckles and goes back to dabbing paint on the piping. “I don’t think I ever learned to read music when I played, I just watched people on MTV.”

Patrick shakes his head fondly, “Of course you did,” then after a few moments of silence--and Pete knows where this conversation is going-- “Don’t you want to play again?”

Pete sighs and shrugs, not really wanting to talk about it. It was just another thing that made him think of the past, and thinking about the past always pulled too hard at the carefully structured walls that Pete had built. Only, Patrick’s been chipping at those and Pete is getting a little skittish again. 

Like the other night when Patrick had been brushing his teeth in Pete’s bathroom, taking entirely too long. And Pete found out why when Patrick walked into the bedroom slowly with pill bottles in his hands. Pete bolted up into a sitting position and stared at him with wide eyes, his heart thundering in his ears. 

“What are you doing?” Pete whispered, sliding up to the headboard of the bed as Patrick walked further in. 

Patrick sat the pill bottles on the bed and looked up at Pete. “Now, I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure you should be taking these if they’re prescribed to you,” he says gently. 

It had been hard, so fucking hard not to just run out of the apartment and never come back. But Skylar was in the next room and he was a grown man. “I have...issues.”

Patrick reached up and wrapped his hand around Pete’s ankle gently. “You know, I’ve seen you have a panic attack. I was there,” he says casually, like they’re discussing the weather, “And I’m here now, so don’t you think you could cut me a little slack?”

“It’s…”Pete trailed off because he didn’t really know what to say really. He knew that they would have to talk about Pete’s blue days and the parking lot incident and all the shit that he tries so hard to push away. 

“These were dated about a month ago,” Patrick said softly, tilting his head, “and it doesn’t look like you’ve taken any.”

“I’ve been feeling fine,” Pete insisted, “I’ve been happy.”

“Pete--”

“Patrick, I, just, not yet, ok?” Pete whispered, willing Patrick to give in about this. This shit was fucking hard and he had given him time to come to terms with dating, so Pete was pretty confident that Patrick would back off, that he knew Pete’s limits.; 

“No,” Patrick had said instead, and Pete stared down at the blankets with a frown, “This is your health, I’m not letting you push this to the side with the other million things that we haven’t talked about.”

“I have a thing about pills,” he said in a small voice. 

“A thing?”

“I don’t like them.”

“I don’t particularly like to floss, but it’s some--”

“Stop,” Pete huffed, looking up at him. “It’s not the same ok? You can’t kill yourself with floss.”

And as soon as the words were out of Pete’s mouth, he wished he could just gather them up and swallow them back down. Because Patrick’s face was carefully expressionless, but knew him enough by now to know there was a lot of screaming going on in his head. 

Patrick reached up to smooth Pete’s hair off his forehead and kissed it gently. “You should start taking your medicine again.”

And that had been the end of the discussion.

But it feels like an open wound, especially right now. Patrick was really good at finding all the weak points of Pete’s foundation and poking at it to see if it was sturdy enough to keep Pete afloat. With Skylar, the pills, music. It was like he was zeroing in on all the pulse points of Pete’s life. 

Patrick stares at Pete, waiting for him to give him more, to let him in more into his fucked up head, but when Pete stays silent, he returns to grading papers. 

*

“You have to hold still,” Pete huffs as Skylar wiggled again, growing antsy from having to stand still for so long, “I’m going to accidentally stick you.”

Pete always makes Skylar’s Halloween costumes from scratch because she never wants to just be a fairy or a vampire. Last year she was a kraken because she had gone through a pirate stage, and this year she wants to be a Borg from Star Trek. Only she wants to be a _sparkly_ Borg. 

“You can’t send her to school looking like a sci-fi character,” his mom had said at dinner, “She’ll scare all the other kids.”

Skylar had grinned and stabbed her carrot savagely, “They’re just big babies.”

And his mom gave Pete an exasperated look, but Pete just shook his head and laughed quietly. 

“Alright, kiddo,” Pete says, unwrapping the fabric, “You’re free to go.”

Skylar takes off running down the hall yelling, “Freedom!”

Pete snorts and brings the fabric over to the sewing machine that sits on his coffee table. He’s about halfway through Judgement Day and almost done with Skylar’s skirt when there’s a knock at his front door. 

“Open,” Pete calls, because he had left it unlocked for Patrick. 

“Remind me to never agree to be a sponsor for an afterschool program,” Patrick grumbles, opening Pete’s fridge to pull out a beer, “And for _Magic: The Gathering_ , I thought it was going to be about medieval lore or maybe dragons? Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a--”

“It’s a fucking card game!” Patrick exclaims, taking a long drink from his beer, long enough for Pete to grin at him and nod. 

“Yeah, Gerard plays it with Zeplin. They’re teaching Skylar,” Pete says, turning back to the skirt he’s finishing up. 

“Of course Gerard plays _Magic_ ,” Patrick grumbles, plopping down on the couch. 

Pete pats his knee, “Ok, grumpy, try not to bully the nerds in front of Skylar.”

Patrick’s face pinches in confusion. “I have no problem with nerdy things, I just didn’t want to spend two hours sitting in the library to watch a card game.”

Pete snorts, “So, you’re mad it wasn’t nerdier?”

“Yeah! I wanted there to be sword fights or casting spells.”

“There is. But with cards.”

Patrick just pouts and stares at the television, until, “God, how many times are you going to watch this movie?”

“You’re on a roll tonight,” Pete chuckles.

Pete lets Patrick stew for the rest of the movie, finishing Skylar’s skirt and starting on her top. Pete’s learned that when Patrick gets in these moods, it’s best to just let him simmer down instead of trying to talk him out of his funk. He tried doing that one time when Patrick was getting all pissy about the bridge or whatever he was working on for a new song and Pete had said, “It’s not like you’re doing this professionally, there’s no pressure to get it right.”

“Excuse me?” Patrick had bit out. 

Pete tried to backpedal, but he knew he had already fucked up. “It’s just a hobby of yours.”

Which had ended up in both of them arguing all night long, because once they got fired up they started arguing about everything and anything. Pete’s not exactly sure how he ended up sleeping on the couch for saying that Raphael was the best Ninja Turtle instead of Donatello, but Patrick apologized the next morning with a blow job and the best cinnamon roll he’s ever had--though he’s not going to tell Andy that. 

“I didn’t know you could sew,” Patrick says as the credits are rolling.

Pete shrugs, “Yeah, just enough to get by.”

Patrick sits up and rests his temple against Pete’s shoulder. Pete hums and sets down Skylar’s finished outfit, glad that she’s still small enough that sewing her clothes doesn’t take hardly any time at all. Patrick nuzzles against Pete and Pete smiles just a little, because it’s always cute when Patrick gets extra affectionate after he’s been grumpy. 

Patrick shifts and turns them so that Pete is on his back against the couch, and it reminds him of all those nights ago when they first started all this. It feels like a lifetime ago, but the way that Patrick is tilting Pete’s chin up and kissing him makes it feel like they were just here yesterday. Pete knocks Patrick’s fedora off and runs his fingers through the flattened light brown hair--red in certain lights, but don’t tell Patrick that or he’ll blush. Patrick’s hands drift from his chin down to the hem of Pete’s t-shirt, pulling it up before sliding down to press searing kisses against his stomach. 

“Wait,” Pete breathes, tilting his hips up when Patrick licks down to the waistband of his jeans, “I still need to do bedtime with Skylar.”

“I’m ready for bed,” Patrick says huskily, toying with the buckle of Pete’s belt. 

*

“Ok this risotto needs to be on the restaurant's menu,” Pete groans, taking another bite.

Patrick piles more butternut squash pasta on his plate. “And this,” Patrick says, swirling noodles around his fork, “I want to bathe in this sauce.”

Andy grins and writes in his notebook. He’s still trying to create a menu for the restaurant he’s in the process of opening, but whatever he puts in front of Pete and Patrick has just been added to the list--so they haven’t really been helpful narrowing anything down. 

Introducing Patrick to Andy had been the most anti-climatic experience Pete thinks he’s ever been a part of. He wasn’t sure why he had been nervous, but introducing his boyfriend to his best friend had caused a few flips in his stomach as he drove them to Andy’s cafe. When they got out of the car, Skylar had just taken Patrick’s hand and showed him around the cafe like she owned the place. Then she picked up Garbage, who was about her size and growled warningly, “And this is Garbage! He’s my best friend...well, besides Zeplin.”

Patrick had stared at the cat with wide eyes. “I think you should put him down, he looks like he’s going to eat you.”

“He just gets a little grumpy.”

“Because he’s forced to eat vegetables instead of canned tuna like normal cats,” Pete teased until Andy came out of the kitchen with a grin. 

Pete had held his breath as Andy came around the counter and shoved a cupcake into Patrick’s hand. “Here, I’m trying this lemon blueberry batter, tell me what you think.”

And then once it looked like Patrick was going to orgasm from the cupcake, Andy laughed and said, “He’s a keeper. Come on, I need help with the menu.”

Which is how they ended up sitting at the counter with their pants unbuttoned so they could keep eating. Skylar was tapping one of Andy’s reusable bamboo straws onto Garbage, trying to change him into a rat. Pete’s pretty sure it’s time to let up on the Harry Potter marathons. 

“So listen,” Pete says, “Can you make those maple cookies for Skylar’s Halloween party? Maybe shape them into pumpkins?”

“Cheater,” Patrick mutters, nudging him which just made Pete roll his eyes playfully. 

Andy nods. “Yeah sure, it’s a nut free recipe, so it should be fine.”

Pete furrows his brow. “Oh, I didn’t even think about that.”

“That’s why you have me,” Andy says, grinning then pretends to be suddenly very focused on his notebook. “Which means, you know, you owe me an awful lot of favors…”

Pete sets his fork down and peers at him, feeling Patrick watching them with interest. “Uh huh, what is it?”

“Just one favor really,” Andy says, scribbling in the corner of his notebook page, “A big one.”

“Spit it out, Hurley.”

“I want you to open the restaurant with me,” Andy says, then takes a deep breath and looks up at Pete expectantly. 

For a moment, Pete wonders if Andy has been talking to Patrick. Because Pete may or may not have had multiple meltdowns about his job lately. The worst was when he stared at his computer for three hours, not reading any of the material he was supposed to review, just stared catatonic until he called Patrick with a frantic voice, “I can’t do this anymore, I feel like I’m going out of my mind.” Because his job had always been brainless, but he just sucked it up because he had Skylar in the background to make him feel like the walls weren’t closing in around him in the living room. But now, sitting alone in the apartment looking at the computer screen was starting to get to him. 

He tried everything.

He put on his favorite music. He made his favorite snacks. He even put _Terminator_ on in the background. Nothing made the day more enjoyable and he felt like he was just buzzing out of his skin, like he was just going to burst with all the pent up energy. 

“You’re not meant to be sitting at a desk all day,” Patrick had said, “You need to be up on your feet doing something you enjoy.”

But nothing came to mind for Pete. He didn’t have a degree, and it wasn’t like he could go back to school with a five year old-- “Yes you can, there’s online classes or night school,” Patrick had protested--and _alright_ , Pete didn’t want to go back to school. He never really liked it, could never pay attention and forget trying to write papers or do assignments once he did finally get out of class. So, no, that wasn’t in the cards for him. Pete didn’t really see him learning a trade to work construction, though Patrick had gone all dazey eyed like he was picturing Pete in a hard hat and nothing else. 

Which left him with retail or restaurant work. Neither of which were really great options to support him and Skylar. And Pete saw the frustration in Patrick’s eyes when he brought this up, because he knew Patrick wanted to tell him he needed to get Skylar’s mom to pay him child support. But that would mean that Pete would have to actually talk about Skylar’s mom, which he made clear to Patrick, that was not going to happen. 

But he didn’t really consider going into business with Andy. 

“What?” Pete asks.

“Look,” Andy says, “You’ve been with me for every step of opening this cafe.”

And that had been true. He and Andy had been friends since they were kids basically--and he forgets that they’re still kids in some sense--and he had always liked to cook. Andy had been on a college campus for about five minutes before he got angry about the lack of vegan options. Which made him have to cook all his meals from scratch and he found that he liked cooking more than going to class, so he dropped out and started cooking at different restaurants in the area until he had saved enough money to buy this shit hole and really fix it up into the cafe that it is today. 

Pete had been there to taste test everything that Andy put on a plate in front of him. He had gone to the hardware store with him to pick out paint and stayed all night to help build the counter he was currently sitting at. Everything down to the designs on the napkins, Pete had offered his advice and Andy welcomed it.

“This cafe is your baby though,” Pete says, “It’s _yours_.”

“It was never just mine, Pete,” Andy says softly. 

He felt Patrick’s hand on his knee, reassuring and steady. Keeping him grounded. And when he turned to look at Patrick, saw the gentle smile, encouraging and the nudge that Pete needed to say, “So what you’re saying is that you want me to be your baby daddy?”

Andy snorts and Patrick’s hand squeezes Pete’s knee. “Yeah, sure.”

Pete grins, looking back at Skylar who has lost interest in her failed Transfiguration spell and has moved on to wrapping Garbage in a bunch of napkins, trying to turn him into a mummy but the cloth napkins just don’t have the same effect as paper towels. “Yeah, ok,” Pete says softly, watching Skylar look up at him and smile like she knew what was going on. 

*

If Pete didn’t already know that his kid was the coolest kid ever, he had no doubt in his mind as Skylar bounced over to him, glitter falling off her halloween costume. They had gotten up an hour earlier than normal so that Pete could paint her face and hands an eerie grey before clipping the one end of the piping he had painted into her hair and the other end he safety pinned to the back of her outfit. The best part was sticking the prosthetic Pete had gotten at the Halloween store onto her temples, opting not to find an eye piece since he thought that would have irritated her at school all day. 

All the parents had stared at them when Pete dropped her off at school that morning. She clearly stuck out among the other girls who were dressed as fairies and princesses. Patrick’s eyes widened when he saw her and he looked up at Pete with a huge grin, which only grew into a laugh as Skylar ran over to him and yelled, “Resistance is futile!” 

“How was your party?” Pete asks, taking her hand and ignoring the curious looks they were still getting. 

“Everyone liked Uncle Andy’s cookies,” Skylar reports, looking around the gym with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Patrick?"  
  
Pete smiles, his heart constricting just a little. Skylar and Patrick had created this bond that Pete would get jealous of if he wasn’t completely enchanted by the way Patrick interacted with her. Patrick was over almost every weekend, except for the weekends where Pete stayed the night at Patrick’s when Skylar crashed the Way-Iero household. At first Pete thought that maybe Patrick had been trying too hard to impress Skylar with his guitar lessons and his willingness to reenact the sword fight between Count Rugen and Inigo Montoya with her. But he never let up, he just acted excited to see her every day even though he had hung out with her the night before while they piled with Pete on the couch to watch _First Contact_. 

“He’s already home getting ready to go trick-or-treating with us,” Pete says. 

When they get home, Patrick is dumping candy into a bowl to leave outside the door for any trick-or-treaters in the apartment complex. Gerard invited them to go trick-or-treating with them since the neighborhood they live in is pretty big into Halloween. 

Patrick looks up from his task as they walk in and frowns. “Why did I let you talk me into this? I look horrible in red,” he says, pulling at the red Star Trek uniform shirt he has on.

“You look _great_ in red,” Pete corrects, walking down to his bedroom to find his matching gold shirt. 

“Why is yours a different color than mine?” Patrick calls out.

Pete hears Skylar giggle and say, “Because you have a different job than daddy.”

Gold shirt on, Pete walks back into the kitchen and tries to steal a kit-kat from the candy bowl, but Patrick bats at his hand. “What does gold mean?”

Pete smirks. “That I’m captain of course.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and starts to gather his keys and wallet. “And red?”

“Communications!” Skylar answers.

Patrick is still grumpy as they drive to Gerard’s, getting frustrated by the random blocked roads for the festivities later on tonight. Once they park, Skylar gets out of her car seat and runs towards the yard where Zeplin is howling like a werewolf. Patrick starts to get out of the car, but Pete grabs onto his shirt and pulls him into a kiss.

Pete can feel the tension drain for Patrick as he nibbles against his bottom lip. “Hey,” he whispers softly.

“Hey,” Patrick responds, then kisses Pete again before pulling back and saying, “I’m sorry. I’m just flustered I guess and it’s coming across all wrong.”

Pete reaches out and smooths Patrick’s messy hair that’s usually hidden under a hat. “It’s ok, I know it’s a lot,” he says, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“No,” Patrick insists, “It’s not that. I like this, I...I haven’t felt like I was a part of something like this in a long time. Halloween usually just meant that I watched _The Adams Family_ while I waited for the four kids in my apartment complex to ring the doorbell.”

“Ok,” Pete nods, still playing with Patrick’s hair, “So what’s up?”

“I guess I was just trying to prove that I belong,” he whispers, and Pete stiffens a little. Patrick doesn’t let his insecurities show very well. In crowds he turns red and withdraws into himself, when he’s talking to Joe he looks like he’s going to crawl out of his skin and run away. But with Pete, Patrick is usually calm and collected besides the cute washes of pink that dance across his cheeks every now and then. 

Pete frames Patrick’s distressed face with his hands. “Hey, listen to me,” Pete says gently, “You _belong_. You’re part of us now, ok? You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Patrick’s eyes brighten and he wraps his hands around Pete’s wrists and pulls him in for a kiss--

“Dad! Gross!”

Patrick huffs and pulls away, but he’s laughing so Pete takes it as a good sign. 

Gerard’s house almost always looks like it’s Halloween on the inside, but he’s got spiderwebs on the bushes, tombstones in the yard, bats hanging from the trees, and a few zombies placed throughout the landscaping. He comes out dressed in a long dress with a wig that's long and black with a streak of white in the front. 

“Frank, they’re here!” He calls back into the house, he peeks out into the yard to see what the kids are up to, then ushers them inside. 

Pete’s only met Frank Iero once before when he was dropping Skylar off since he has unpredictable hours at the tattoo parlor. He comes out of the kitchen dressed as Frankenstien, holding a bowl of candy. “Hey guys!”

“Great costumes,” Gerard says, “When Zeplin told me that Skylar was going to be a Borg I was pretty impressed. Did you make her costume?”

Pete can’t help but feel like an adult as he talks to Gerard about making homemade costumes for his daughter while Patrick and Frank talk about music. They make their way out onto the front porch so that they can keep an eye on the kids as they munch on the granola Frank made, apparently he’s vegan too and Pete makes a mental note to introduce him to Andy. 

It’s almost an outer body experience, having this much fun with people that understand him. That get how overwhelming taking care of a five-year old is and who have recommendations for art classes for Skylar to try out next summer. When it starts getting dark, Pete hangs back with Patrick as the kids run up to different houses to get their candy, chuckling with Gerard when Skylar tells everyone that, “Resistance is futile!” 

“God, remind me to hide that DVD when we get home,” Gerard mumbles to Frank, “I don’t want to hear that over and over for weeks.”

Pete grins, because, yeah, it’s been a long few weeks leading up to Halloween. He’s hoping that she’ll find another interest after being a Borg all day. 

Patrick holds Skylar’s pail of candy when it starts to get too heavy and goes up with her to the doors after that. 

“So,” Gerard says, “Things are going good then?”

Frank rolls his eyes, “You’re so nosy.”

Pete shrugs and watches as Patrick walks through a Halloween joke with Skylar to tell the nice lady holding the Starbursts. “Yeah, he’s great with her.”

“Think you’ll have more kids then--”

“Gerard!”

“What?” Gerard asks innocently, “I’m just saying…”

Pete hadn’t really considered it to be honest. He had let himself drift into la la land while he was sitting at the computer pretending to work, thinking about a future with Patrick. But they were typically clips of domesticity like baking Skylar a birthday cake together or lounging around their backyard sipping sweet tea--because in Pete’s dream future they live in a house instead of a runned down apartment. 

Sometimes he lets himself dream bigger, images like looking down at his left hand and seeing a band wrapped around his ring finger or looking over at Patrick and seeing him with greying hair. Things that Pete thinks should have made him breathless, but tended to be reasons to breathe instead. Reasons to look to the future instead of cowering from it. Reasons to stand in the bathroom and swallow the little pills that Patrick had asked him about. 

“Hey,” Patrick says, holding Skylar up in his arms, “I think we better get home, we’re starting to lose steam.” 

And Pete’s never been a future kind of guy. He’s never lived more than an hour at a time, couldn’t really without getting paralyzed with the fear of what could happen. But watching as Skylar rests her head on Patrick’s shoulder and wraps her arms around his neck, eyes growing heavy, Pete wants to think about things like backyards, rings, and kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone didn't piece together what the Way-Ieros were, they were the Munster family for Halloween :)
> 
> I know this was a long chapter, but there wasn't really a good spot to split it up...plus, I have some things planned that needed a set up in this chapter...dun dun DUN!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete stands off to the side and watches Patrick interact with his daughter and mom. Sees the way he hoists Skylar up so that she can hold the can of whipped cream upside down and coat the pumpkin pie. Watches the way his mom is looking at Patrick, squinting like she’s looking at the sun, something so bright and giving that she can't take it all in at once. And when she catches Pete’s eyes, she smiles like she’s proud of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support on this fic so far, everyone has been so sweet and amazing. I really love this community so much, you all are really helping me get through a rough time right now and I appreciate it more than I can express.

November is a whirlwind of Pete quitting his job, picking out paint samples with Andy, watching Skylar jump in leaf piles with Patrick, and nagging phone calls from his mother about Thanksgiving. 

“I want you to bring Patrick,” his mom had said. 

“I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“He hangs out with your daughter, he can meet your parents,” she scolded. 

Pete doesn’t know why asking Patrick over to his parents for Thanksgiving is such a big deal, but it feels monstrous. They’re at Patrick’s apartment for the evening, Patrick is stirring something that smells like it has lots of butter and cheese. Pete loves this time of year. 

But it’s hard for him to sink into their usual routine of making dinner together. Pete can’t focus on cutting up the vegetables for their salad, can’t focus enough on what’s happening around him because he’s so in his head. Because it’s not just asking Patrick to his parents, he’s also plagued with the fear of everything he’s building with Andy falling apart. 

“I don’t think we should split it down the middle,” Pete had said with a frown as he looked at Andy’s proposal. 

“What are you talking about? I’m not bringing you on as an employee, I’m asking you to be my partner in this.”

And maybe it’s because partner has always meant something different to Pete, he shakes his head and frowns. “Yeah, but not like equal.”

Andy stiffened in his chair, the way he always does when Pete says something that shakes him up. There’s hardly any moments like that left, he’s pretty much said everything that could drive Andy away back when they were kids, but there’s still times that Andy seems really sad at how Pete thinks. “Pete,” he said softly, “Partners are equal.”

There’s also the possibility that Pete doesn’t want to accept the responsibility of being an equal for this project, because he doesn’t want the fear of failing Andy on his shoulders. He doesn’t know anything about running a business, and Andy had just smiled and told him that he’d learn along the way. 

“At least make it sixty-forty not fifty-fifty,” Pete sighed, digging the heel of his hand into his eyes, his head swimming after staring at the numbers Andy had been crunching all afternoon. 

“I’m going to lie and say fine, but I’m still putting fifty percent of the profits into your bank account,” Andy teased. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And Skylar had been bringing Zeplin over more because they liked to sit with Patrick at his keyboard that he had brought to Pete’s apartment, because the crazy music addict had more than one keyboard-- “They serve different purposes, Pete”. Pete was thrilled at first that Skylar had a friend and that he wanted to spend time over at the home that Pete had created, only he started to feel more like they wanted to hang out with Patrick and not him. And it’s a stupid thing to be jealous about, this is what he wanted. He wanted Patrick to step into this sort of role and create this rounded family unit with Pete, but it felt like it was getting away from him sometimes. Like everything was moving too fast. 

He just felt like he couldn’t slow down to breathe sometimes. 

But then, Patrick would place his hand on the small of his back, like now, and say, “Hey, where are you?”

Pete blinks and realizes he’s still standing at the kitchen counter holding a cucumber in one hand and a knife in another. “Oh, sorry, just thinking.” He sets the cucumber down on the cutting board and starts chopping it into smaller bits for the salad. 

Patrick presses a kiss into his shoulder blade and runs his fingers slowly up and down Pete’s sides. “About what?”

The walls crumbling down in front of Patrick means that they have these types of conversations more. And Pete is trying to lean into them and not push things away, but there’s still things that he stiffens up at, so Patrick lets it go. 

“The restaurant,” Pete starts, “The date of the opening is coming up.”

Patrick hums and wraps his arms around Pete’s middle, swaying them softly. “Andy believes in you,” he says, “He wouldn’t set you up for failure.”

“I know,” Pete sighs, “I’m just--”

“I know,” Patrick hums. 

Pete’s anxiety has more or less taken up residency in Pete and Patrick’s relationship. Some part of him thinks it’s because Patrick is making him talk about it more, think’s it’s almost like Beetlejuice where there’s only so many times they can say it before it shows up and wreaks havoc on Pete’s life. 

There had been one morning where it all came to a head and Pete couldn’t get out of bed again. He had called Andy to get Skylar ready for school, hiding in his covers as he heard them getting ready for the day. Skylar bounced into Pete’s room and kissed his cheek, saying, “feel better,” then ran out the room with her light up shoes going crazy against the darkness of his bedroom. 

When he heard the front door open, he had expected Andy to come in and try to get Pete to eat something, but he heard Patrick’s voice mixed with Skylars. Pete pulled the blanket over his head, and fought childishly when Patrick tried to pull them back down. 

“Pete, hey, talk to me,” Patrick begged softly.

And when he realized that Pete wasn’t coming out of his cocoon anytime soon, he simply sat on the bed next to him. He read through Pete’s poetry books that he kept on his nightstand, getting up occasionally to check on Skylar. He started dinner in the evening and took Skylar through her bedtime routine, coming back into the bedroom once he got her into bed. 

And he didn’t push. He just resumed his book next to Pete. 

When Pete did poke his head out, Patrick just opened his arms and Pete dove in them, crumpling into a tearful mess. Patrick didn’t ask any questions, didn’t make him explain anything. And Pete wondered if the pills in his cabinet spoke louder than any words that Pete could ever say, if they explained enough to Patrick that he didn’t push. 

Or maybe it was because he was scared too. 

“Pasta is done,” Patrick murmurs, pulling away to scoop buttery and cheesy noodles onto plates. 

Patrick doesn’t bring it up again until they’re on the couch watching Law and Order SVU and Pete’s missed the first half of the episode in his head again. “Pete.”

“I’m sorry I just--”

Patrick interrupts his ramblings with a kiss and Pete immediately melts into it. Pete lets Patrick cradle his face and press gentle kisses against his lips before Pete shifts so that he’s crawling into Patrick’s lap. Patrick smiles, breaking the kiss and lays his head back against the couch cushions with a raised eyebrow. Pete nods and pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it over the arm of the couch, burning under Patrick’s gaze. 

Sex with Patrick always feels like the first time over and over. He’s always learning new things about Patrick’s body. Like how he likes it when Pete brushes the back of his knee or when he tangles their hands over Patrick’s head. And Patrick is always pushing Pete to let go more in the bedroom, gets him to shake free of any constraints of his mind and lose himself under Patrick’s hands and tongue. 

Pete stands up and pulls at Patrick’s belt. Patrick grins and stands too, letting Pete lead him into his bedroom. Pete unbuckles his belt and the slide of the leather against his slack’s spurs Pete into a frenzy. He’s pulling at Patrick’s shirt, feels Patrick dragging Pete’s jeans down his legs, there’s a stumbling dance to make it to the bed and take off socks at the same time. And then they’re crashing onto the sheets in a tangle of limbs and kisses. 

Patrick nips at Pete’s neck and hooks his arms under Pete’s knees, pulling him further down the bed so he’s flat against the mattress. He doesn’t unhook his arms though, he smiles devilishly at the folded up position Pete is in and Pete gives in to whatever Patrick has planned with eagerness. He loves watching Patrick like this. How his eyes burn bright and his cheeks deepen in color. The shyness from the first time they were in bed together seems like a distant memory, and Pete feels warmth in his chest at knowing that he’s breaking down Patrick’s insecurities as well. 

Patrick shifts Pete’s legs so they’re over his shoulders and Pete starts to question what he’s doing when all thoughts, words, and breath leaves him at once as he feels Patrick’s tongue where he’s only felt his fingers so far. No one’s ever done this to him and he had always thought that he wouldn’t really get that much enjoyment from it, but he’s amazed by how quickly his body puddles into a mess of quivering limbs and babbling pleas. 

“Patrick,” he gasps, arching his hips and tangling his fingers into Patrick’s hair. 

Because it’s just so fucking much but not quite what he needs either. He frees one of his hands from Patrick’s hair to wrap around his leaking cock. He gets a couple of strokes in before Patrick wraps his hand around Pete’s wrist and pins it to the mattress. Pete whines and he’d be embarrassed at how he’s rocking against Patrick’s mouth if he wasn’t so far gone with want.

“Please, please,” he whines when he tries to use his other hand to take his cock in his hand again, only to have Patrick pin that down too. He’s so close to falling apart but it’s not what he wants either, there’s something he’s straining toward and he doesn’t understand what it is he’s looking for until he gasps, “Fuck me.”

Patrick groans, the vibrations against Pete’s skin causing him to nod, _yes_ and beg, “Patrick, fuck me.”

Patrick pulls off to kiss his shaking thighs and then he’s moving up the bed to rummage through his nightstand. Pete’s pretty sure there’s going to be nothing left of him if he doesn’t come back soon, but his lips wrap around Pete’s neglected cock and he shouts out, almost coming out as a sob at the sweet stretch of Patrick’s slick fingers pushing into him. Pete’s sure he’s about to come before the main event that he’s been looking forward to, but Patrick pulls off and sits back, watching his fingers disappear into Pete for a few more thrusts until he smiles and removes them to put a condom on.

And then he’s leaning over Pete, his hand cupping Pete’s cheek and his forehead pressed against his. “Yeah?”

Pete nods, “Please.”

Pete feels Patrick’s eyes on him as he pushes in. Pete feels his jaw drop, feels his limbs grow heavy, feels his eyes roll in the back of his head and hears the strangled whimper escape his lips. Patrick kisses him, pressing soft and gentle kisses against his trembling lips and then stills, waiting for Pete. 

He’s not even in his mind and he’d been pulled out of it in the bedroom with Patrick before, but not like this. Not to the point where he feels like he’s nothing but his body. Nothing but nerves. Just skin to be licked and caressed.Just a body to bend and mold under the heaviness of pleasure.

Just Patrick’s. 

The initial burn of the stretch melts into something else, something burning through Pete’s veins and he arches his hips to try and push the fire further. Patrick pulls out and Pete opens his eyes to watch Patrick’s eyes darken as he watches between them and sinks back in. And then Pete gets lost in the sound of the headboard hitting the wall, the rustling of the sheets, the heavy moans leaking from Patrick’s throat, and the breathy pleas being kissed off Pete’s lips. Get’s lost in that building crescendo until he can’t hear anything, can’t tell he has any other sense but touch. And it feels like Patrick is searing that one away from him as well, thinks he’s going to be nothing left after Patrick is done with him. 

And he thinks maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. 

Patrick’s hips are bucking erratically and Pete knows that he’s not going to last much longer either. Patrick looks up at him, holds his gaze as he wraps his hand around Pete’s cock. He doesn’t get more than a few strokes in before Pete is shattering under him, feeling Patrick pulsing inside of him. 

He feels Patrick dotting soft, open mouthed kisses along his chest when he comes back to his senses, all of them slowly bringing him back to the bedroom. 

“Hey,” Patrick murmurs, tilting Pete’s chin so he can kiss him. 

It’s lazy and sloppy, both of them too lax to do anything better but it’s perfect for Pete. “Hey.”

Patrick shifts so that he’s laying his head on Pete’s chest, running his fingers up and down Pete’s stomach, chuckling softly when Pete’s sensitive muscles tighten under his touch. He feels boneless and his mind is gooey in the best way, and that’s his reasoning for saying, “Want to come to my parent’s for Thanksgiving?”

Patrick snorts and kisses Pete’s chest, right over his heart, and says, “Your mom already called me.”

*

Armed with a pumpkin pie from Andy, Pete leads Skylar and Patrick to his car. Skylar buckles herself in, Patrick hovering a little in case she needs help as Pete sets the pie and Skylar’s overnight back into the truck of the car. 

“Nervous?” Pete asks as he starts the car. 

Patrick frowns. “Should I be?”

Pete shrugs, pulling away from the apartment, “You’ve already talked to my mom.”

Pete had to go through the grapevine before finding out that his mom had gotten Patrick’s number from Andy, to which he threatened to pour bacon grease in all Andy’s vegan Thanksgiving dishes. 

And then he pried out what Patrick had told his mom on their phone call. Pete admits it was fighting dirty to initiate round two before unleashing his interrogation, but Patrick was smiley and gave his answers easily, thinking it was cute that Pete was so worked up over a phone call. 

“She asked me how I became a teacher,” Patrick grinned, “She was interested in my work and that I’m a musician.”

Apparently Patrick had been on the phone with Pete’s mom for hours talking about everything under the sun, which had made Pete smile. Patrick was so shy at first, but once you got him talking, Patrick would not shut the fuck up. And his mom was nosy enough to keep supplying questions, so Pete can only imagine how long they were talking before one of them finally closed the conversation. And there’s something about that makes Pete smile again, thinking about that. 

“Just,” Pete sighs, “Um, don’t take my dad personally. He’s just all about his work.”

Patrick lets that sink in and asks, “Not a family man?”

“No,” Pete says, turning onto the highway.

It’s not that his dad was a bad dad, not at all. He just had a colder way of expressing his love or interest. He didn’t hug him when he was a kid and didn’t tell him he loved him, he wrote a check to college. Which could be why Pete kicked himself for dropping out, because he had thrown away the only tangible proof he had that his father gave a damn. 

Patrick keeps Skylar busy on the car ride by asking her about her favorite Thanksgiving dishes and Pete watches him, knowing that he’s trying to keep himself busy as well so he doesn’t show that he’s nervous. Pete can tell though, can hear it in his voice and the way his knee bounces. Pete smiles gently and sets his hand on Patrick’s knee. 

Patrick doesn’t stop his conversation with Skylar, just places his hand over Pete’s and tries to explain why the President pardons a turkey every year as a tradition. 

His mom answers the door with a mixing bowl in her hands, stirring rapidly and motioning for them to come in. “Come on, you’re letting the cold air in.”

Patrick trails in after Pete and Skylar, hesitating at the door and taking in the massive foyer. Pete lets Skylar follow his mom into the kitchen with her curious eyes and eagerness to help however she can. 

“Doing ok?” Pete asks softly.

“This is a big house,” Patrick says quietly. 

Pete takes Patrick’s hand again. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you get lost.”

Patrick stops staring at the high ceiling and meets Pete’s gaze, pulling their tangled hands up to his lips. “Lead the way.”

Pete takes him into the kitchen where Skylar and his mom are molding biscuits onto a pan. “Are you seeing your parents today, Patrick?”

“No,” Patrick says, taking the glass of wine that Pete offers, “We’re all yours today.”

Pete focuses on the wine filling his glass and not how Patrick lumped them into a “we”. 

“Oh,” she says, “We’re glad to have you.”

Pete stands off to the side and watches Patrick interact with his daughter and mom. Sees the way he hoists Skylar up so that she can hold the can of whipped cream upside down and coat the pumpkin pie. Watches the way his mom is looking at Patrick, squinting like she’s looking at the sun, something so bright and giving that she can't take it all in at once. And when she catches Pete’s eyes, she smiles like she’s proud of him. 

Pete doesn’t know how to tell her that he didn’t do anything. That Patrick is the one rounding out their family, he’s the one making everything seem right. 

They don’t see his dad until his mom literally has to pull him out of his office and drag him to the table. He nods at Patrick and introduces himself, and Pete pats Patrick’s bouncing knee as he returns the sentiment. 

Skylar wrinkles her nose when his mom tries to offer her turkey and says, “That’s a carcass, no thank you.”

Pete opens his mouth to scold her, but realizes she said ‘no thank you’ and lets the fact that she called the Thanksgiving turkey a carcass go. Andy has been doing damage control by telling her that other people are allowed to eat meat if that’s what they chose to do. And Skylar seems to accept that enough, but it doesn’t stop her from making comments and frowning whenever she sees Pete sneak pepperoni pizza rolls into their shopping cart. 

Pete lets himself become wrapped in the coziness of the filling food and easy conversations, cheeks hurting at how much he’s smiling and laughing. He sits back and just watches his family interact, lets him watch Patrick blend in easily. Or, not really blend in. Find his own place within something that Pete didn’t know was necessarily broken. And it’s so easy to just lean against Patrick and close his eyes at the soft fingers rubbing up and down his spin. 

“So,” his mom says, “I talked to Jeanae a couple of days ago.”

And just like that, his momentary perfection is shattered. 

He’s aware of Patrick’s stare on him, knows that his face is probably stricken. And he wonders if Patrick is able to fill in the blanks. 

“Why would you?”

“She wants to see Skylar.”

Pete stands and walks away from the table, knowing it’s a lost cause as he hears chairs scrape against the hardwood floor. 

“Pete, this is a good thing,” his mom says, following him into the kitchen. 

Pete doesn’t know what to do, but he knows he needs to busy his hands. He goes to the sink and starts washing dishes. 

“What are you doing?”

“Why?” Pete asks, “Why the fuck would you think this is a good idea?”

“Skylar needs her mom,” she says softly. 

Pete scoffs. “She hasn’t needed her in five years.”

He can hear more footsteps and he hopes that Skylar is still in the other room. He turns and sees Patrick, hovering by the doorway, eyebrow raising in question. As if he’s asking _do you need me to take you away from here?_ And Pete’s not sure, he just feels dizzy. Feels his hands shake and the staticky feeling isn’t there, it’s a full forced attack of needles. It’s as if his whole body is being pricked and his breath is coming out in short spurts. 

“Pete,” she says slowly, like Pete is a wild animal, “Children need two parents.”

“She has two parents!” He yells, whipping around to catch Patrick's expression melt from shock to love. 

And this moment, that look on Patrick’s face should have been something monumental for Pete. It should have been special, something he would look back at and remember, “that was the moment I knew I loved him.” But instead it’s tainted with the wild anger towards his ex for wanting to come in and wreck everything he’s still building. 

“No,” Pete says, “She’s not allowed to see her.”

“I think you should meet with her,” she continues like Pete hasn’t said anything, “See what she has to say.”

“We’re leaving,” he seethes, setting down the sudsy dish he was holding. 

Patrick jumps into action, gathering their coats and Pete’s keys as Pete scoops Skylar up from her chair in the dining room. She’s crying softly, no doubt scared from Pete yelling. 

“Shh,” he soothes, “We’re going home. Everything is going to be alright.”

“Pete--” his dad starts.

“Don’t,” he hisses, “I don’t want to hear what you think my _family_ should do.”

The ride home is tense. Patrick drives so that Pete can curl up in the passenger seat and focus on breathing. When they get home, Pete scrambles out of car and pulls Skylar from her carseat. She clings to him, knowing something is wrong but not knowing why. 

Patrick follows inside quietly, hovering by the front door as Pete carries Skylar into her bedroom. It’s way too early for bed, but going through a routine has always helped Pete and Skylar seems more than willing to get into her pajamas and curl up in bed with Pete. 

They don’t talk about it, Pete’s not sure what to say to her. Instead, he reads to her until his throat is sore and she’s drifted off to sleep. He doesn't leave her side then, just sits there in her mess of blankets and sparkly pillows wondering how long they’ll still have this before it gets taken away. 

Eventually he makes his way out to the living room where Patrick is sitting with the television on, though it doesn’t look like he’s been watching it. Pete just stands there, unsure what to do with himself. 

“What are you going to do?”

Pete chuckles softly and shrugs. 

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” Patrick offers and Pete nods. 

Patrick hesitates, then sits up and turns off the television. “I think you should tell me about her.”

“You already know everything,” Pete sighs. 

“I don’t know why you reacted the way you did,” Patrick says, “I know it would be a shock for anyone but--”

“What?” Pete bites out. 

Patrick starts backpedaling, “I mean--”

“She left an infant with me!”

“Pete--”

“Alone and I wasn’t ready to be a parent either,” Pete says, “You know me! I have fucking issues and--”

“You’re a great father--”

“--sick and fucked up--”

“--would be stressful for anyone--”

“--almost killed myself!”

Patrick freezes then and this is what Pete had been trying to avoid. This fucking look on Patrick’s face. Pity, sadness, disappointment.

“Pete,” he whispers, standing up. 

Pete steps back. “Don’t,” he says in a small voice. 

“You need to talk to me,” Patrick says, taking a step forward.

Pete just shakes his head because Patrick doesn’t understand. He won’t get it and it’ll just be used against him. He’s a good dad and he’s not going to let his past ruin that for him. 

He got better. 

“Pete--”

“Just drop it!”

“No,” Patrick says, “Ok, I’m done tiptoeing around you. You have all these off limit topics, and sure, fine whatever, but they’re _serious_. You can’t just tell me you tried to kill yourself then not tell me about it!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Pete bites out, “You think that just because we fuck, you the right to everything in my life?”

Patrick glowers at him and Pete is ready for it. He’s seen Patrick blow up over the Wi-Fi going out, seen him curse up a storm when he stubs his toe--he knows that this is about to be World War III. 

But instead he says stiffly, “I know you’re upset, so I’m going to go before you say something else that you’ll regret.”

Pete just deflates, feeling like an asshole when Patrick doesn’t fight back. He needs the yelling, he wants to scream because everything inside of him is pulsing and he feels like he’s just going to explode. But the fight leaves him as soon as Patrick closes the last of the distance between them and presses his lips to Pete’s forehead. 

When he tries to move, Pete tangles his hands in his shirt and pulls him back. “Please.”

Patrick wraps his arms around Pete, hugging him tight. “You have to talk if I stay.”

Pete sinks into his embrace and mumbles, “Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally get to the drama with Skylar's mom...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is my mom a bad person?”
> 
> Pete winces at Skylar’s tiny voice, sounding smaller under the weight of her question. He sighs and sits next to her on the floor where she was playing with Legos earlier. He knew that this was going to come up, he had felt the tension radiating off her in waves but he hadn’t known how to bring it up. 
> 
> “No,” Pete says softly, picking up some Legos and sticking them together randomly so that he could focus on something other than her sad expression. 
> 
> “Then why can’t I see her?”
> 
> Pete bites his lip to keep from saying what he wants. He doesn’t want to tell her that it’s not fair for her mom to come back into their lives and mess everything he’s worked so hard for. He doesn’t want to tell her that he can’t bare the idea of her hugging her mom like she fucking did anything worth the affection. Can’t tell her that he has this blinding rage in him whenever he imagines having to share weekends and holidays with her.
> 
> “Dad?”

Pete thought that maybe the floodgates would open and he’d just spew everything out to Patrick, let it rush onto the floor and have Patrick pick at everything and evaluate it for Pete. Because even after all these years he hasn’t really let it settle in his mind and heart. He tries to keep a thick wall between him and his past.

But now Patrick’s finished smashing all his walls and he’s just left in the open with nothing to hide behind. 

Patrick walks them back to the couch and sits them both down, keeping enough space between them that Pete doesn’t feel smothered, but still keeping his hand on his. And then he just waits. 

The longer the silence stretches, the more Pete wants to curl up and hide. He lets his mind wonder to scenarios where he could distract Patrick with sex or persuade him into putting this conversation off for another day. Tell him that it’s already been an emotional day and he wants to go to bed or that it’s honestly not even that big of a deal and they should just drop it. But he knows that Patrick isn’t going to back down tonight, and it has to be tonight, he’s waited long enough. He’s been given random puzzle pieces without even the box to see what he’s building, and it’s time that Pete showed him the whole picture. 

“So I met Skylar’s mom,” he starts, frowning a little that he still doesn’t like to say her name, “I met her at a party during the summer before our third year? Yeah, I think that’s right.”

Patrick leans back into the couch and smiles softly at the beginning, squeezing his hand for him to continue. 

“She was...probably still is, gorgeous. I mean just--” he blushes and shrugs, and Patrick rolls his eyes-- “Anyway, we...um, hooked up and liked it enough to do it again, and uh, again--”

“I get it, Pete, move on,” Patrick says with another eye roll. 

“Yeah, um, so anyway, we just didn’t really work as a couple I guess. I’ve always sort of fallen for the wrong people. I mean she was wild, more than me. She wasn’t scared of anything.”

Pete hasn’t let himself think about that summer in years. But now that he’s talking about it, the memories wash over him like chlorine treated water--fine at first, but drying and irritating the longer he sits with it. He sees her hanging out the car, egging him to drive faster as her hair whipped around her face. Hears her murmurs on the telephone when she thought he was asleep. Feels her neon painted nails dig into his skin as she shoved him away and threw a glass after him. He remembers how fast that summer went, a blur of sex, alcohol, and bad choices. Of the yelling that he stopped being able to differentiate between fucking or fighting. 

“Pete,” Patrick says, nudging him a little. 

Pete gets up and goes into the kitchen to grab a beer. He brings one over for Patrick who just shakes his head, so Pete sets it on the table and opens his. He takes a long drink before he says, “It just was never going to work out.” He takes another drink and shrugs, “And then she got pregnant and I thought maybe that was going to change things.”

Pete had done the right thing, or what his parents told him the right thing was. He dropped out of school and found a job so he could support his new family. “It was so _hard_ ,” Pete whispers, like he’s living through it again and he’s trying to breathe through it, “I just felt so trapped. I was working at a debt collecting call center, and just, being stuck at a desk and listening to people yell at me all day only to go home and listen to _her_ yell at me all day. Kept telling me how this was all a mistake, that she never wanted to do this with me but somehow _I_ had guilted her into this.”  
  
“Pete,” Patrick says gently, pulling him closer but Pete shook his head. “I didn’t understand what I had done _wrong_. I didn’t get why I was so awful to her, but she couldn’t even look at me. She just resented me, like--” he shakes his head and takes another drink-- “And she wasn’t excited about Skylar at all. I don’t fucking get why she wants to see her now, she barely looked at the ultrasounds. I think she knew she wasn’t going to stay, she never even tried to make it work, you know? She already had her mind made up.”

Pete drains the rest of his drink and then leans in and lays his head on Patrick’s thigh, wrapping his arms around it and hugging it like it was a stuffed animal and he really didn’t fucking care if he looked clingy. Because if he’s going to get through the next part, he needs to hang on. “When Skylar was born, I totally went through all those cliche emotions,” he says, smiling a little as he thinks back to how little she had been, how he knew he was going to set the world on fire if she asked as soon as she looked up at him. “I was so, I don’t know, just in love with being a dad at the beginning. I’m terrible at sleeping anyway, so I didn’t mind being up with her. And those first couple of months were great, but I could tell that Jeanae wasn’t in it. She barely held Skylar, like she fucking flinched whenever I tried to get her to hold Skylar. And then I guess it just got to be too much and she left.”

Patrick slides his fingers through Pete’s hair and makes a soft, empathetic sound. 

“We had been talking about what to put on the grocery list and the next thing I knew, she was walking out with a bag and I was just standing in the hallway holding Skylar.”  
  
And then things got bad. Scary bad. “And I just didn’t really handle that well,” Pete says softly, peeking up at Patrick to see if he’d push for more. It’s worse, really, what he sees instead. Patrick’s looking down at him like he’s piecing it all together, like he can fill in the blanks. As if he could see the way Pete stumbled in and out of stranger’s beds, how he barely looked at his daughter because she just reminded him of what he had done wrong. Like he could feel the steering wheel under his own hands, as if he felt the stale city air leak through the windows as he parked under illuminated blue and yellow lights, as if he felt pill after pill slide down his throat. 

Patrick runs his fingers over Pete’s cheeks, slides them over his jaw, then up to his lips like he could go back and pull the pills out of his mouth. He swallows thickly, blinks rapidly, then whispers, “Let’s go to bed.”

*

“Is my mom a bad person?”

Pete winces at Skylar’s tiny voice, sounding smaller under the weight of her question. He sighs and sits next to her on the floor where she was playing with Legos earlier. He knew that this was going to come up, he had felt the tension radiating off her in waves but he hadn’t known how to bring it up. 

“No,” Pete says softly, picking up some Legos and sticking them together randomly so that he could focus on something other than her sad expression. 

“Then why can’t I see her?”

Pete bites his lip to keep from saying what he wants. He doesn’t want to tell her that it’s not fair for her mom to come back into their lives and mess everything he’s worked so hard for. He doesn’t want to tell her that he can’t bare the idea of her hugging her mom like she fucking did anything worth the affection. Can’t tell her that he has this blinding rage in him whenever he imagines having to share weekends and holidays with her.

“Dad?”

Pete puts down the Legos and looks up at her and keeps his expression as neutral as possible. “It’s complicated.”

Skylar’s face twists into disappointment, her frown shaping into a scowl. And Pete understands, he’s never talked to her like she was a child incapable of understanding things. He’s never kept anything from her like this. He always made sure to explain things to her, even if it meant breaking it down in different ways so that she still felt included. But now he was shutting her out of this, and he knows it’s for her own good. He thinks it is anyway. 

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” Pete hisses when Patrick comes over later.

Patrick looks down the hall towards Skylar’s bedroom. “How’s she been?”

“She won’t come out of her room,” Pete says, “She knows what’s going on. She’s not stupid.”

“I didn’t say she was--”

“No, I know. I’m just…”he trails off, digging his hands into his hair. 

Patrick sets his work bag down on the kitchen counter and pulls Pete into a hug. “I know.”

But it was more than being ignored by his daughter and trying to navigate being around Patrick after kicking the last of his walls down. He felt like he was skinned alive, too raw and vulnerable and his emotions were just leaking through him. 

And it didn’t help that his parents kept trying to call him. His mom leaving voicemails that Pete is overreacting and that he needs to do what’s best for Skylar. His dad saying that Jeanae could go to court for custody if he keeps ignoring her. 

It’s just too fucking much. 

He needs a drink. Or five. 

“Are you still playing later tonight?” Pete asks, his voice muffled against Patrick’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Maybe you guys could come up? Might get Skylar out of her room.”

And it had seemed like a good idea, until he actually had to get Skylar out of her room. He didn’t lay down the Dad Card a lot, but he actually put his foot down and told her to get off the floor and find her shoes. 

“I don’t want to!” She yells and Pete takes a deep breath, because he _knows_ that she’s just lashing out from being confused about what’s going on. She’s half of his DNA and apparently she got all of his emotional outbursts. 

“We’re going to see _Patrick_ , you love seeing his shows,” Pete says, “And Brendon will be there. I’m sure he’ll let you have all the cherry sodas you want.”

She crosses her arms but he can see her wavering under the promises of soda. “Extra cherries?”

Pete sighs and smiles, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Fine,” she huffs, “But I get to stay up past my bedtime.”

Pete raises his eyebrow. “Half an hour past.”

She narrows her eyes at him, and he sighs, “Half an hour _and_ I’ll read an extra chapter tonight.”

“I want chocolate chip pancakes in the morning too.”

“You gotta learn to quit when you’re ahead, kid,” Pete chuckles, ruffling her hair.

Walking into the bar after being cooped up in the apartment with all his thoughts and an angsty five-year old was like stepping into an air conditioned building after sweltering in the suffocating heat all day. Skylar runs up to the bar and climbs up one of the stools so she can wave at Brendon and get his attention. 

“Hey there, Kiddo!” He exclaims with a big smile. 

Pete makes his way to the bar and Brendon nods at him. “Hey, how’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he says, because that’s what adults say when they’re trying to be polite right? Brendon just nods and starts pouring their sodas. Pete hesitates, but says, “Want to throw some vodka in mine?”

Brendon grins and gives him a wink before tilting the clear bottle into his usual club soda. He tosses in a couple of limes and hands him the drink. “Patrick saved you guys a table up front.”

“Of course he did,” Pete grins, sipping his drink and gathering Skylar to make their way through the crowd. 

Patrick beams when he gets on stage and sees them sitting up front. Pete hasn’t taken Skylar to see Patrick perform in a bit. They’ll go out every now and then, but Pete gets a little wary of letting his daughter hang out in a bar even if everyone is nice and respectful towards them. It’s not the type of bar to get really rowdy, and Brendon is pretty good at watching people’s alcohol limits when Skylar is around. 

Patrick looks like he’s exorcising emotional demons tonight, and it pulls at Pete’s chest because with all the whirlwind that’s circling him, he forgets that all this affects Patrick too. He’s only through his second song by the time Pete goes up to grab another drink. Brendon grins at him and says, “Patrick driving you home tonight?”

“Yeah,” Pete assures him so that he’ll pour the drink. 

Pete hasn’t really been drunk since Skylar was a baby, not slurring words drunk anyway. He’s had a buzz since then for sure, but never around Skylar, so he feels a little guilty that she’s staring at him like he’s having a blue day. But guilt doesn’t taste as bad going down when he’s chasing it with a vodka soda. Brendon’s eyes darken when he gets up for a third drink and by the time Patrick’s set is done, he’s in a nice warm and fuzzy place. 

When Patrick gets off stage, he wraps his hand around the back of Pete’s neck and says lowly against his ear, “What are you doing?”

Pete leans back into his touch, because, _fuck_ , he had forgotten how great it felt to be touched like this. When he’s nothing but burning liquid held together by oversensitized skin. “Watching you play,” he murmurs, “You looked so good up there.” He turns in Patrick’s hold and starts pawing at his shirt. 

Patrick frowns and holds his hands still then looks over to wear Skylar had been sitting. “Where the fuck is Skylar?”

Pete winces at his tone and it chases the fuzz out of his mind a little. He blinks at her empty chair then his blood runs cold. “She was just there,” he slurs, feeling his words stick together and get caught in his mouth. 

Patrick drops Pete’s hands, shooting him a dirty look and rushing to the bar. Pete stands there, a little stunned, and feeling very cold. He knows he fucked up, but it’d be nice if Patrick would stick around and help him find his kid or you know, be all boyfriendy, boyfriend-like, be whatever, just like make him feel good and safe. Because everything feels like it’s spinning and he’s looking at the table, at the empty glasses that he swore had only been three, but there’s double that many and he’s really confused how those got there. 

And the more he tries to think, the more things get cloudy and time blends together. He could have sworn that Patrick just got up on stage but now he’s talking to Brendon with his hands waving everywhere and his face is bright red. 

Brendon points over to the jukebox and Pete follows his direction, feeling a sense of relief so sweet that he actually falls back into his chair when he sees Skylar standing on a chair in front of the machine. Patrick rushes to her and picks her up, holding her closely and muttering. Pete can hear it in his head, Patrick’s soft voice, soothing so he doesn’t frighten her, so she doesn’t think anything was wrong. 

Patrick carries her back over to Pete, glaring at him. Pete looks down at his feet then back up when they get to the table, holding out his arms for Skylar. Patrick gives him a once over, like he’s trying to see if he’d fucking drop her or something, and decides to set her down. Pete frowns, but leans down to hug her. “Hey, don’t sneak off again.”

Skylar looks up at him with confusion. “You said I could go.”

Patrick grabs Skylar’s jacket that’s just laying on the floor and scoffs. “Nice, Pete, her coat smells like alcohol.”

“I didn’t--”

“Let’s go,” he says with no room for argument, not that Pete wants to. He sorta wants this whole night to be over. His warm and fuzzy feeling is gone and now there’s nothing but Patrick’s angry eyes and Skylar’s confusion. 

Patrick takes Skylar’s hand and holds his guitar in the other. “Where’s your keys?”

Pete holds them out and sees Patrick try to shift his guitar so he can take them. Pete reaches for Skylar. “I can--”

“Don’t,” Patrick says and something just snaps in Pete. 

“I can take care of my own daughter!”

“You’re drunk off your ass right now!”

“I’m not that drunk,” Pete says, and he knows it sounds childish, and he knows that they’re drawing a crowd.

Patrick notices too and heads towards the door so that Pete has no choice but to follow sullenly. They get outside and the cold air hitting the back of his throat makes him cough, which stirs his stomach and the next thing he knows he’s hunched over and puking in the street. 

“Fuck,” Patrick mutters, walking back to him and setting his guitar case down. He puts his hand on Pete’s back and rubs softly. “Are you ok?”

And it could be the cadence of his voice when he says it or the fact that he had yelled at him just a couple minutes ago, but Pete just opens his mouth to tell him “fine” only all that comes out is a sob. Patrick steps closer to him, pushes his forehead against Pete’s cheek and whispers, “Baby, you can’t do this here.”

Pete nods and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his vision blurring for hot tears. 

“Pete?”

Fuck.

He hasn’t heard that voice in five years. He looks up and it’s like seeing a ghost, or probably scarier than a ghost. She’s bundled up in a coat and has a knit hat on, but he can still see her dark hair poking through around her chin. She’s cut it since the last time he saw her. Her eyes shift from where he’s standing to Patrick is, then shifts down and her eyes widen. “Skylar?” She asks softly. 

Patrick straightens up and Pete watches Skylar hide behind him, hugging his leg and poking her head out to the side of him to look at Jeanae. Pete wonders if she can tell that the woman in front of them is her mom. If there’s something about biology where a kid just knows these things. 

Jeanae’s face lights up and she takes a step closer. Pete moves to stand in front of her but his foot catches the curb of the sidewalk and he stumbles. “Don’t.”

“Are you _drunk_?” She asks, arching her perfectly shaped brow. 

“Pete, let’s go,” Patrick says. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Jeanae asks, narrowing her eyes. 

“Look, I get this is a rough situation but we shouldn’t do this here. We can set up a time for you two to meet--”

“What?” Pete yelps, turning to face Patrick at the same time Jeanae scoffs. 

“I’ve been trying to set something up,” she says, “Your mom told me that you come here to watch your boyfriend play. I’m assuming that’s you?”

“Patrick,” he says and Pete glares at him. How the fuck could he be so nice to her right now? She’s trying to break up his family. 

Wait.

“My mom told you I was here?”

Jeanae sighs, “Well you won’t answer her calls. She wanted us to meet at their house, you know, common ground?”

“How is that common ground?” He spits out, “They’re _my_ parents?”

“They agree with me,” Jeanae says, then whispers, “I’m her mom, Pete.”

“Now you want to be her mom,” Pete hisses, getting in her face and jabbing his finger into his shoulder, “Where were you for the last five years.”

She backs up and narrows her eyes. “You can’t keep me from seeing my daughter. I’m trying to be nice and do this the right way, but if you want to make it difficult then I will file for custody.”

Pete scoffs. “I’ve been taking care of her for her whole life. What judge would give you a child?”

“You’re stumbling outside a bar right now, Peter. With our daughter, who by the way shouldn’t be anywhere near this place, what the fuck are you thinking?”

“Like you give a shit about her!”

Patrick grips Pete’s arm. “Alright, let’s go. Jeanae, look, we’ll set something up but it’s late and this isn’t the way to do this.”

“And where’s her jacket?” Jeanae shouts.

Patrick sighs and looks over at Pete. Pete shakes his head and picks Skylar up, pushing past Jeanae and trying to not focus too hard on the fact that Skylar is shaking. 

“It’s ok,” he murmurs to her, opening the car and setting her in the car seat. 

He hears Patrick still talking to Jeanae, then he’s jogging over to them. He starts up the car and turns the heat on, shifting the vents towards Skylar. Pete leans his head against the window as Patrick drives them home. Pete feels like he’s spiraling under the anger and disappointment radiating off Patrick and the soft little sniffles from the backseat. Patrick doesn’t say anything as he pulls up to Pete’s apartment. Pete stays seated in his seat as Patrick turns off the car and gets Skylar out of her seat, slamming the car door and going up to the apartment without looking back at Pete. 

He sits there for a few more minutes, until the car starts to get cold again, before getting out and stumbling up the steps. He feels sluggish and like his body is full of lead, but he also knows he can’t hide from this. He’s supposed to be the adult, he has a fucking kid and he...fuck, he can’t believe he acted like that. Can’t believe he got drunk in front of Skylar like that, and in front of Jeanae. That was not how he wanted Skylar to meet her mom. 

Patrick is shutting Skylar’s bedroom door when Pete walks inside. His eyes meet Pete and he leans back against the wall and sighs, “Look, I told myself that when I got involved with you, I wouldn’t tell you how to be a parent. I think you’re a great dad, Pete, and I’ve met a lot of parents through my job.” 

Pete nods. “Patrick, I--”

“You’re going to want to get a lawyer,” Patrick cuts him off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things are getting a little angsty, but hang in there :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I apologized about last night,” Pete says.
> 
> Patrick puts his hand on his hip. “Um, no, actually, you didn’t. You apologized to Skylar, which-- good for you but it’s sort of a cop out. She’s your daughter and five years old, she’s going to fucking forgive you. But, you didn’t apologize to me for putting me in that fucked up situation last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No moodboard for this chapter, I just wasn't feeling it this time. I think this chapter had so many emotions going on, it was hard to find a visual representation. Or I'm just lazy?

When Pete wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in bed and pretty sure he’s dying. 

He hasn’t had a hangover in five years, and age really hasn’t been kind to him apparently. He sits up and immediately regrets the action, his head swimming and stomach flipping. He holds his head and breathes slowly through his nose until his body catches up to the fact that he’s going to get out of bed and it’d be really cool if it cooperated. 

He hears Skylar and Patrick in the kitchen and he knows that he can’t hide out in his room all day, he’s going to have to apologize and deal with the consequences. Fuck, Patrick had been so angry with him last night. Flashes of him getting yelled at in the bar creep in among the tiny axe picks digging into his brain. And the yelling wasn’t necessarily the worst, the look he gave him as he took care of Skylar--he’s doubted his parenting capabilities, but he’s never felt more of a shitty parent than under Patrick’s disapproving glare. 

Ok, time to face the music. He gets up and makes it to the door, holding his hand to his head and wincing when he opens the door and the lights burn into his cornea. He shuffles into the kitchen and sees Patrick sitting at the kitchen table with a half empty plate in front of him, sipping some juice. 

Patrick looks up and chuckles. “Morning, sunshine.”

Pete groans and slumps into the seat next to him. 

“There’s eggs and bacon on the stove if you want some,” Patrick offers, setting his juice down. 

Pete raises an eyebrow. “You got Skylar to eat eggs and bacon?”

Patrick snorts, “No, she demanded oatmeal instead. I figured you needed the grease and protein though.”

“I’m not sure I can stomach anything right now,” Pete sighs, laying his head on the table dramatically.

Patrick doesn’t say anything, just takes another bite of his breakfast. 

“I know we have to talk about last night, but can we not today?” Pete says quietly. 

Patrick shrugs. “I’m not sure there’s much to say,” he says, not quite meeting Pete’s eyes, “You fucked up, and I know you know that. I don’t really need to say anything.”

He’s still clearly pissed, in that sort of annoying passive aggressive way. Pete would rather they just have it out and get over with it, but he doesn’t really have the mindset to handle that right now. 

“Skylar wants to go to Zeplin’s,” Patrick says, “I told her it was ok, I hope you don’t mind. I just figured she could use some time with her friend after last night.”

Pete winces and nods. “Yeah, no I don’t mind. That’ll be good for her.”

Patrick nods. “Frank’s picking her up in a little bit. I think they were going to go to the Field Museum or something.”

“Skylar loves that place,” Pete says, smiling a little, but he feels it slipping. 

He looks up and sees Patrick staring at him, his expression a mix of something Pete can’t totally comprehend. He’s still annoyed, Pete can tell by the way his nostrils flare up, but his eyes are soft and sort of sad. Patrick gives him another once over before getting up and starting to clean up the kitchen. 

Pete rubs at his eyes and goes to Skylar’s room on the way to find aspirin in the bathroom. She’s slipping her small feet into her sparkly pink rain boots. 

“Is it supposed to rain?” Pete asks softly. 

Skylar shrugs and looks up at him almost timidly. Pete’s heart sinks and he takes a hesitant step into her room. “Hey,” he says quietly, sitting on the bed next to her, “I’m sorry for acting weird last night.”

Skylar looks like she’s trying to understand what happened, and he’s not quite sure what he should say. Skylar knows that there’s certain drinks in the fridge that she’s not allowed to have, but she doesn’t really understand why. And Pete’s really not sure that discussing alcohol to a five year old is that great of an idea. He feels like she’s been hit with so many adult things recently and he doesn’t know when he stopped being able to protect her from all the bad things in the world.

“Your mom isn’t a bad person, but we don’t really get along,” Pete starts and Skylar looks up at him, a little surprised that he’s talking about her mom. 

He smiles wistfully and tucks a stray curl behind Skylar’s ear. “We used to like each other, a lot, but sometimes people don’t stay friends. Her not being around had nothing to do with you, you know that right? You didn’t do anything.”

Skylar nods slowly and, fuck, he can tell she’s going to start crying any minute. He picks her up and sits her in his lap, hugging her to him. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did last night, but she hurt my feelings and I acted out.”

“S’not nice,” Skylar says softly.

“Yeah, you’re right, I wasn’t being nice and I’m sorry,” he says, hugging her again, “I’m so sorry, Skylar.”

Skylar hugs him back then leans away so she can look up at him. “Are you still sad?”

Pete doesn’t like keeping things from her and he knows he’s been doing a pretty bad job at that recently, so he nods, “Yeah, a little.”

She pauses like she’s thinking that over, then she bares her teeth and growls. Pete breaks into a breathy laugh, and then bares his teeth and growls back. 

*

By the time Frank comes to pick up Skylar, Pete’s aspirin has kicked in and he’s managed to get over the worst of his hangover. 

“Have fun!” Pete calls after them before shutting the door, then frowns when he sees Patrick gathering his things, “Where are you going?”

Patrick winces, but grabs his keys off the kitchen counter. “I think I should spend the rest of the weekend at my place.”

Pete stands in front of the front door. “Wait, why?”

“Really?” Patrick huffs, “You can’t figure out why I might need a break from you?”

“I apologized about last night,” Pete says.

Patrick puts his hand on his hip. “Um, no, actually, you didn’t. You apologized to Skylar, which-- good for you but it’s sort of a cop out. She’s your daughter and five years old, she’s going to fucking forgive you. But, you didn’t apologize to me for putting me in that fucked up situation last night.”

Pete leans back against the front door. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “Of course I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha--”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Patrick interrupts, “I mean what the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

Pete winces and shrugs. 

“Not good enough,” Patrick hisses, “You got drunk in front of your five year old. Which, I don’t know Pete, that’s--” he laughs humorlessly, “I don’t ever want to see that again. You had no idea where she was!”

“You think I don’t know that! I know I fucked up I don’t--what happened to you knowing that I know I fucked up, huh? I thought you were just going to be all _mature_ and let me think about what the--”

“--apparently one of us has to be because--”

“--have a lot on my plate right now and--”

“--excuse? Skylar deserves--”

“--I know, but I need you on my--”

“I am on your side, Pete!” Patrick yells, “I am _always_ on your side, and that’s not what this is about! I’m not pissed that I had to step up and be a parent last night, I’m not pissed that I had to take care of you when you were out of line, I’m not even mad that I had to play referee between you and your ex--no, let me finish!” 

Pete closes his mouth and glares back at Patrick.

“I’m fucking _livid_ at you because you put me in the position where I had to watch someone I lo--care about _very much_ , hurt someone else I care about,” he hisses, then, “I’m mad because you’ve made me feel like I have a family again and last night you fucking lit that on fire and I--” Patrick’s voice cracks and he looks down at the floor, his chest heaving. 

Pete forgets sometimes that Patrick has a shitty past too. He doesn’t let it bleed all over him the way that Pete does, but it’s there and it shows up every now and then. Like on Halloween when Patrick got so flustered about trying to fit into Pete and Skylar’s family, or Thanksgiving when he was so willing to go to Pete’s family’s house for the holiday. Patrick doesn’t talk about his family a lot, but Pete knows that it’s never been the same after his parent’s divorce. He knows that Patrick’s been alone for a long time and Pete’s starting to realize that he isn’t the only one who has something to lose here.

“Patrick,” Pete breathes, taking a step towards him. 

Patrick takes a step back and shakes his head, “No,” he says, defiant, stubbornly, and incredibly _hurt_.

“Baby--”

And then he’s being pressed against the door and Patrick’s kissing him angrily. There’s teeth, bruising lips, demanding tongues. Patrick grips Pete’s shirt and Pete’s fingers tangle into Patrick’s hair. Their ragged breathing floods Pete’s ears, his chest heaving against Patrick’s. 

It’s too much. He feels like he’s burning, screaming under his flesh, from all the tension being pressed against him. From the anger at his parents. The fear from Jeanae. The self hatred and the fucking _embarrassment_ from last night and the sinking pit in his stomach from Patrick’s hard stare. And he just _snaps_ , he’s never felt so desperate in his life, has never wanted to hang onto something more than he needs to hang onto Patrick. Because Patrick is so _good_ so--he’s the only thing keeping him sane. Keeping the air in his lungs and he can’t fucking lose that. 

He bites down on Patrick’s lower lip then sinks down to his knees and starts undoing Patrick’s belt. 

“Pete--” Patrick chokes because Pete has his pants pushed past the curve of his ass and he swallows him down without any hesitation. Patrick groans, “Fuck” and leans his head against the door. Pete wraps his hands around Patrick’s thighs as Patrick reaches down to card his fingers through Pete’s hair, and then he’s fucking his mouth. 

It’s exactly what Pete needs right now. Needs the cold, hard tile making his knees protest, needs the sharp pull of Patrick’s fingers gripping tighter in his hair, needs his jaw to ache, his eyes to water, to choke, cough, grip, and _not think_. 

“Gonna…” Patrick pants a warning, not loosening his hold on Pete’s hair. Pete squeezes his thighs as a _go ahead_ , then Patrick’s hips snap faster and Pete’s world shrinks into nothing but _Patrick Patrick Patrick_. When Patrick grips his hair harder, Pete relaxes his throat to get ready to swallow, but Patrick pulls out and Pete’s coated in white, hot, sticky ropes.

He doesn’t even have time to process what’s happened, to really feel the wetness dripping off his chin and rolling down his chest before Patrick is kneeling in front of him and dragging his sweatpants down. Pete doesn’t realize he’s whining until Patrick is pressing kisses against his temple and wrapping his hand around his leaking cock. “I know, baby,” he whispers, and Pete thinks he’s gone blind for just a moment at the wave of pleasure so intense it borderlines painful. But Patrick is there, not teasing, not prolonging anything, just pushing him mercilessly to the edge and then he kisses him, shoves his tongue in his mouth to taste where he’s been before shoving him off.

When Pete opens his eyes, he’s slumped against Patrick and tingling so much that he feels it in his teeth. Patrick’s fingers untangle from Pete’s hair and he strokes down to the back of his neck. 

“I love makeup sex,” Pete breathes dreamily. 

Patrick snorts and presses a kiss to his forehead before starting to peel himself away. “Who says I forgave you?”

“Your dick,” Pete says, shifting and wincing at his knee locking up. 

Patrick looks at him, smiling a little smugly as his thumb wipes at the come still sticking to his chin. “It’s sort of impossible to stay mad at a mouth like that.”

Pete leans in to take his thumb into his mouth and sucks it clean, grinning around it as Patrick’s eyes darken. 

*

The rest of the afternoon stretched out into lazy shower kisses and soft, repeated apologies. Pete knows that it’ll take time for Patrick to fully forgive him, to really feel secure in what they’ve been building together. But there was a calmness that hadn't been there that morning, and it felt like the air had cleared enough that Pete could breathe again. 

Even Skylar looked better when she got back from the museum, and it was like she could tell that things were better between Pete and Patrick because she was easy smiles again and sat between the two of them as they played Candyland and ate frozen pizza until it was past her bedtime. 

So Pete thinks that things are good again as he paints the last of the walls of the restaurant that he and Andy are going to be opening soon. They want to do a soft opening on Christmas Eve for all their friends, just to test out the final menu and also see their friends for the holiday. 

Andy is talking to him about maybe switching the cherry macrons to cranberry since it’ll be more festive when Pete’s phone rings. He’s sort of been on default to just ignore it, but most people don’t call him in the middle of the day so he glances at the screen and it’s Skylar’s school. 

“Fuck,” Pete breathes, dropping his paintbrush and Andy copies the action and turns towards him. Pete answers, “Hello?”

“Mr. Wentz?” Joe’s voice comes through. 

“Uh, yeah, wha--”

“We need you to come to the school,” Joe cuts him off hurriedly, “There’s been an incident.”

“Um, yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” Pete breathes, hanging up. He looks up at Andy and he doesn’t even say anything before Andy says, “Go.”

He realizes he’s driving faster than he should, and he knows that the last thing he needs right now is a speeding ticket, but he can’t make himself ease off the gas. There hasn’t been too many scary incidents revolving Skylar and Pete thinks that has something to do with him keeping her so sheltered up until this point, so this feels like someone has their icy grip tightening around his heart. 

He’s calling Patrick when he gets out of the car, but he doesn’t answer so he hangs up and makes his way through the parking lot. His footsteps echo ominously down the hallway as he hurries to the school’s office. 

The wall separating the office from the hallway is made of windows so Pete can see Skylar sitting in one of the chairs pressed against the wall, her hair pulled from her braid and her face red and splotchy from crying. She’s yelling and pointing at another kid, and Pete’s about to walk in when Patrick comes out from Joe’s office waving his hands around like he’s pissed. 

And then Skylar cries out, “Dad!”

For a moment, Pete thinks that she’s seen him, but she rushes to Patrick. Patrick hesitates for a second, clearly stunned at Skylar’s outburst, but stoops down so that he can hug her. Pete can’t make out what he’s saying to her, but she rests her head on his shoulder and then looks up and sees Pete. 

Pete walks in with shaky legs and when Patrick looks up, he looks really uncomfortable. And Pete’s not really sure what he’s feeling either, or how that’s coming across his face, all he knows is that his kid called his boyfriend “dad” and it’s pulling at his heart in a way he can’t really process right now. 

First he needs to figure out why his kid is crying. 

Joe clears his throat, clearly starting to put the pieces together and says, “I’d like to speak to the two--no, _three_ of you please.”

Patrick stands up and steps away from Skylar, looking up with worried eyes before he pulls on his professional face and straightens his shoulders. Pete wishes he could push down his emotions, but he can’t. He just takes Skylar’s hand and follows Joe into his office who tells the other kid to “Hang tight, your mom is on her way.”

There’s only two chairs on the other side of Joe’s desk, so Skylar sits on Pete’s lap and kicks nervously at his shins. 

“So, Skylar and Mathew got into a fight today,” Joe begins and Pete starts scanning Skylar for any injury, but Joe says, “No one was injured, I think they’re both just shaken up.”  
  
Pete’s shoulders relax, until Joe frowns, “I think you should take Skylar home for the day.”

“Wait, w--”

“Skylar started the fight,” Patrick says quietly and Skylar shoots him a look like she’s been betrayed. He smiles softly, like he’s trying to tell her that it’s ok and Pete wonders when they started having their own language. 

Joe sighs and leans back in his chair, fixing Pete with a look. “Usually a child lashes out at school when there’s unrest at home--”

“We’re--” Pete starts but cuts off when Joe holds up his hand. 

“Look, it’s not really my business. Winter break starts at the end of this week, I’m not suspending Skylar, but I think it would be best if Skylar did not return until the start of the new term. It won’t be on her record and I’m sure...Patrick can grab anything from Ms. Williams if need be,” Joe finishes, then leans forward and rests his hands on his desk, “I know things have been difficult for you, but this is the last chance I’m offering.”

Pete just nods and Joe stands, so Pete assumes that’s it. 

Pete stands, keeping Skylar in his hold and starts to follow Patrick out when Joe says, “Um, Patrick, can you stick around for a bit?”

Fuck.

Patrick gives him a soft smile, but it almost looks like he’s trying to convince himself more than Pete, so Pete smiles back and heads out of the office. 

“I’m sorry,” Skylar sniffles. 

“I know, honey,” Pete whispers, hugging her and walking down the steps to the parking lot. He knows that he should probably give her a lecture about how fighting is wrong, but his kid is smart and he knows that she knows better. It’s no different than Pete acting out the other night, which, ok, maybe they should have a talk so that she doesn’t still act like a five year old when she’s twenty-five like he does. 

It’s a long drive home, but he puts on Metallica and that earns a small smile from the backseat and Pete’s chest feels a little lighter at the fact that Metallica makes her feel better too. And then, because he’s the fucking adult and gets to decide how he wants to handle his daughter getting into a fight, he goes through the drive thru at Dairy Queen to get her an ice cream.

He knows it was the right choice since she doesn’t say anything about exploited cows and just attacks the ice cream cone like the five-year old she is instead of growing up way too quickly like Pete feels like she’s been doing. So maybe it’s a little selfish of him to avoid the serious talk about what happened, but he’s just happy to watch her play air guitar and get strawberry ice cream all over the car. 

When they get home, his phone rings and Pete knows it’s Patrick so he picks up before it has the chance to make it to the second ring, “What happened?”

“I’m on my way home now,” Patrick says, “Nothing bad. I have my job, everything is fine, we’ll talk when I get home, ok?”

“Yeah,” Pete breathes, “yeah, ok, I’m going to order out. I _really_ don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

Patrick snorts. “When do you ever?”

“Just for that, I’m ordering barbecue,” Pete says and he can practically hear the eye roll on Patrick’s end before the line goes dead. 

After ordering Thai, Pete collapses on the couch as he hears Skylar dump out a box of Legos in her room. He closes his eyes and exhales loudly, like he can just breathe out the last few hours. He hadn’t expected there to be anymore developments in his and Patrick’s relationship for a while. They had just found their footing again and now this. And it’s not even a bad thing really, Pete wanted this. He wanted a family with Patrick and he wanted Patrick to be a parent to Skylar with him. But just...maybe not yet? Pete’s...not unsure about his and Patrick’s relationship, but he just wants it to be about them for a little bit. He likes that he gets to just be a twenty-five year old with Patrick and fuck up. He likes having angry sex on the floor with him and trying to figure out what’s going on with _them_. 

But he’s letting himself drift back to the school and reevaluating that squeeze of his heart when he heard Skylar call Patrick “dad”. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t jealousy. It was love. Real love, not the kind he thought he had that summer all those years ago, not the kind that only exists between bed sheets and whiskey drinks, not even the kind that’s inked in the slim books on his bookshelf. 

It’s the pizza flavored kisses chasing down anxiety. It’s the fluttery Ferris Wheel declarations and quiet confessions spoken from wine bitten lips. The lazy morning afters that blend into never parting, into merging homes without considering it. It’s how Patrick’s clothes take up more space in Pete’s closet than his do, how he’s got instruments and papers to grade in his living room. The way Patrick’s natural instinct is to protect Skylar even if it’s from Pete. It’s the love that Pete thought he’d never be able to taste over the bitter chemical flavor of his past.

It’s the kind of love that has Patrick walking through the door, into the apartment that he had called “home” on the phone. That has Patrick dropping his keys next to Pete’s on the counter and coming over to him on the counter. That kind of love that bubbles up to Pete’s lips and whispers, “I love you” as Patrick presses a kiss to his forehead. 

And, thankfully, the kind of love that has Patrick exhale shakily, stare at him and breathe, “I love you too.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me again why we’re out here in the cold when we could go to a toasty Home Depot to get a tree?” Patrick grumbles.   
> Skylar takes off running as soon as Pete releases her from the car seat so she can go pet the reindeer.   
> “It’s a tradition,” Pete says, walking over to Patrick’s grumpy form. He grins and tucks Patrick’s scarf into his coat and pulls down his knit hat over his ears more, “They have really good hot chocolate.”  
> Patrick perks up a little bit at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and time spent reading. We're winding down here with the story, probably just a couple more chapters left. <3

“I think,” Pete murmurs, kissing Patrick's knuckles, “I think that there’s some things we should talk about.”

Patrick raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re taking the initiative to talk now?”

Pete rolls his eyes, and bites down on one of Patrick’s knuckles. 

“Ow,” Patrick laughs, pulling his hand away. 

Pete shifts in bed and props himself up on his elbow. He reaches out and traces invisible shapes on Patrick’s bare stomach, not really sure he can look at him while they talk about this. “So,” Pete says softly, “My kid called you dad.”

Pete chuckles softly as Patrick’s chest rises dramatically with the deep breath he takes. “Yeah.”

“How...I mean, it looked like you were a bit thrown there,” Pete says, his nail scraping lightly at Patrick’s collarbone. 

“I was surprised,” Patrick agrees, “I thought it might happen eventually, but--”

“Not this soon?”

“Yeah.”

Pete’s fingers pause over Patrick’s skin, then he looks up and sees that Patrick’s been watching Pete’s nervous fingers. And he won’t meet his eye. 

Pete’s hand moves up to cup Patrick’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly, “It’s ok to be a little weirded out, this is fast. I get it. I can talk to her.”

Patrick still won’t meet his eyes and Pete watches the way his throat constricts, like he’s trying to swallow but his throat is closing in on itself. “It’s not that…” Patrick trails off. 

They sit in silence for a moment, Pete’s not willing to jump in and put words in Patrick’s mouth. This isn’t the time to assume anything. 

“I knew that things were going to be fast when we got together,” Patrick says softly, “I knew that Skylar was going to be part of my life if I wanted to be with you, and I love that. I love her--”

“I know you do,” Pete interrupts, because he thinks it’s important Patrick knows that. 

Patrick stares at him hard for a moment then covers his eyes with his hands and lets out a shaky breath. “Fuck,” he breathes. 

Pete moves and straddles him, tugging gently at his hands. “Hey, don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, “It’s ok. You’re not on trial right now, I just want to--I need to know where your head is at.”

Patrick lets Pete move his hands and stares back at him with glassy eyes. 

“It’s ok,” Pete repeats, leaning in to kiss him softly. “There’s no wrong answers here.”

Patrick sighs and kisses Pete back then sits back against the headboard. “I just thought us moving fast, or, me being involved in her life meant I would take her home from school sometimes or help tie her shoes in the morning. I didn’t realize I would be jumping in a custody battle.”

Pete’s heart runs cold because this sounds oddly like running. Like Patrick’s gearing up to take off. 

Patrick must see it on his expression because he slides his hands up to cup his cheeks. “I’m not running. I’m not”--he waits until Pete nods-- “I just don’t know where I stand anymore.”

“What?” Pete asks, feeling his whole face pinch up. 

“I mean, before I was just her dad’s boyfriend,” Patrick says, letting his hands drop. He rocks his head against the headboard, like he’s trying to drill the thoughts in his head. “But now things are hazy. Joe asked me how long this has been going on and if I’d been giving Skylar special treatment--”

“I know you wouldn’t--”

“Do you?” Patrick asks, raising an eyebrow, “Because I’m not sure. Sometimes... there’s times when I look at her and just want to give her the world.”

Pete smiles, because, yeah, he knows that feeling. Knows how overwhelming it is to love that deeply. “I know.”

“I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be to her,” Patrick breathes, “I’ve just started feeling like we were on the same page.”

Pete chuckles, “Yeah, I know.”

“Pete--”

“Babe, you do what you feel comfortable with,” Pete says, tilting Patrick’s chin up so he’s looking at him. “If you don’t want Skylar to call you dad, we can talk about--”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Ok,” Pete nods, “What are you saying?”

Patrick’s face twists like he’s having a battle with himself. He leans forward and hides his face in Pete’s neck, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. Pete hugs him back, rubbing a hand gently down his spin. “S’okay,” Pete murmurs. 

“I’ve always wanted kids,” Patrick says softly. 

Well that’s a good start, Pete thinks. He smiles against his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Patrick nods. “Yeah, but I--I thought, you know, I’d have time to ease into it. I would be there for all the beginning stuff. I’d have a point of reference. I feel like I just walked into the middle of an exam when I never took the class.”

“Welcome to parenthood,” Pete chuckles. 

Patrick lifts his head to glare at him. 

“What?” Pete grins, “I’m serious. You’re already handling this a lot better than I did.”

“Not funny,” Patrick grumbles, hiding his face again. 

Pete can’t help it though. It’s not funny, no. But he really can’t help how adorable it is that Patrick loves his kid and is trying to come to terms with it. “You have an out,” Pete reminds him softly.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to be her parent,” Pete says softly, “I’m not...that’s not what this is, you know? I love you and I want to be with you. Skylar is part of the deal, but you can just--”

“No I really can’t,” Patrick says, then sighs, “And I don’t want to.”

Pete’s chest feels like it’s being stuffed with warm cotton and he can’t help the huge grin stretching across his face. He’s glad Patrick is hiding against him, he’s sure he’d be a little spooked. 

“Ok,” Pete says slowly, rubbing his back again, “So we take things slow. Snail pace, you know?”

“What does that mean? I don’t know what I’m--how am I supposed to act around her? What do you expect--”

“Trick, I don’t expect anything that you’re not ready for,” Pete assures him.

“I know, but--”

“It means you show her how to play guitar," Pete says, “And you listen to her latest rant about saving the world. It means you come with me to go see her art get hung up at the gallery Gerard’s put together. That you watch _Indiana Jones_ with her, but not _Temple of Doom_ because that one scares her--”

“Pete--”

“And when she’s being a brat, you can tell her,” Pete says, hugging him, “You sort of lucked out, because she’s a pretty easy kid.”

Patrick snorts and it sounds a little wet. Pete places his hand on Patrick’s shoulders and feels them tremble. “She is,” he sniffles. 

“I know this has been a lot for you,” Pete says softly, kissing his temple.

“S’okay,” Patrick mumbles. 

Pete chuckles quietly, “I love you.”

Patrick hugs Pete tighter. "I love you too," he whispers, then, "And I love Skylar."

Pete smiles and presses a kiss to his hair. "That's all that matters, we'll figure out the rest."

*

“Hey, kiddo,” Andy says from his stack of menus, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Skylar looks bashful and runs off to go find Garbage. Andy looks up at Pete and raises his eyebrow. 

“Sky got into a fight,” Pete sighs, sitting down at the table that Andy’s at. He picks up one of the menus. “Oh, these turned out good.”

“Wait, what? My Skylar? Skylar who cries if you swat at a fly?”

Pete sighs and leans back against the chair. “It’s been a tough time for her. She's just acting out.”  
  
Andy hums in agreement and gets up to walk behind the counter. Pete watches him fill two mugs with steaming tea. “What did she get in a fight about?”

Pete snorts, taking the tea Andy offers. “Apparently the kid she got in a fight with doesn’t like Hermione Granger.” 

Andy grins from behind his mug of tea. “Well...”

Pete rolls his eyes. “Patrick broke it up before anything really happened. They were lined up outside his classroom. He was pretty shaken up from it apparently. He was shouting at Joe when I got there.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

Andy shrugs. “Nothing.”

Pete narrows his eyes. “What?” 

“Just seems like things are getting pretty serious,” Andy says, setting his mug down and busying himself with the menus. 

“They are,” Pete answers. 

This morning had been a bit tense at first with Patrick standing in the kitchen watching Skylar bounce around to make her oatmeal. She’s at the phase where she wants to do everything herself and Patrick just hovered. Pete sat at the kitchen table with his coffee, smiling at him visibly cringe when Skylar was trying to lift the hot oatmeal out of the microwave. 

“Ok, let me get that,” Patrick finally caved, pulling the bowl from her hands and setting it down on the counter. He pushed over her stool to the counter so she could reach and put in the blueberries she had found in the fridge. 

“Alright, you want oats with your berries, or what?” Patrick chuckled as she kept loading her bowl up. 

“Andy says they have anytoxedits,” Skylar said. 

“Antioxidants,” Patrick corrected getting a spoon out of the drawer and sticking it in the bowl. “And I think you’ve got enough to keep the heart disease away.”

Skylar took the bowl and came over to the table and sat next to Pete. Pete winked at her and sipped his coffee as Patrick came over with his toast. He saw that Pete was staring and asked, “What?”

Pete beamed at him. “Nothing.”

“So I think the only thing we’re waiting for are the rest of the plates I ordered,” Andy says, flipping through his notebook. “You're going to talk to the folks across the street about that lot? See if we can get it for parking?”

Pete nods. “Yeah…”

And then they dive into talking about the opening. Pete glances over at Skylar every now and then to watch her trying to feed Garbage one of Andy’s vegan cat treats that he makes. He can’t help but think of how far they’ve come from hiding out in Andy’s cafe or the apartment. How far Skylar’s come from thinking her only friend was that fat cat. 

*

“Tell me again why we’re out here in the cold when we could go to a toasty Home Depot to get a tree?” Patrick grumbles. 

Skylar takes off running as soon as Pete releases her from the car seat so she can go pet the reindeer. 

“It’s a tradition,” Pete says, walking over to Patrick’s grumpy form. He grins and tucks Patrick’s scarf into his coat and pulls down his knit hat over his ears more, “They have really good hot chocolate.”

Patrick perks up a little bit at that. Pete grins and kisses the tip of his red nose. “And they have this cute little shop inside with Christmas decorations.”

“Uh huh,” Patrick says, sliding his arms around Pete’s waist. 

“Think we need to get you a stocking for our house,” Pete murmurs, “I’m sure Skylar would be happy to help you pick out one.”

Patrick blushes and looks over Pete’s shoulder and then frowns. “I think she’s arguing with the animal handler.”

Pete sighs and shakes his head, but he’s grinning. Sure enough, when they over to Skylar, she was arguing with the handler who was dressed as an elf that the reindeer wasn’t actually one of Santa’s reindeer because they should be resting before their long night of work. Patrick was trying to keep from laughing. 

“Alright, kiddo,” Pete says, taking her hand and leading her away, “Let’s not ruin the magic for the other kids.”

“They shouldn’t be lying,” Skylar insists. 

“It’s more like playing pretend,” Pete says, “Like when we pretend we’re traveling to Mordor at the grocery store.”

Skylar pinches her eyebrows together, like she’s trying to think it over. “Can we get hot chocolate?” She asks, getting distracted the further they walk into the Winter Wonderland Tree Farm. 

“Tree first,” Pete says, “Then we can warm up with hot drinks.”

Patrick looks at the hill they’re going to have to climb to get to the trees. “You didn’t say anything about this being a workout.”

Pete chuckles and squeezes his ass. “You’ve got it.”

Patrick blushes and darts his eyes to Skylar, who doesn’t seem to be paying attention. She leads them up the hill, then veers off once they start getting closer to the trees. “We should get a _really_ tall one!”

“It’s gotta fit in our apartment, hon,” Pete says and watches her size up different trees. 

“I’ve never had a real tree before,” Patrick says after a while. 

Pete squeezes his gloved hands. “Really?”

Patrick shrugs. “Yeah, we always had a fake one. And then when my parent’s split, it was rare for us to even put it up.”

Pete frowns. “Trick…”

“No,” Patrick says, kissing his cheek, “None of that. I’m just saying, it’s fucking cold...but this is nice.”

Pete beams and kisses him. It’s a messy kiss since they’re both smiling too much and then laughing when Skylar yells, “Look, a Charlie Brown tree!”

Skylar finally finds one out that looks like it’ll fit in their apartment, even though Pete’s pretty sure he’ll still end up trimming the top like he does every year since they’re terrible at picking out the right size. 

Pete ends up being the one to cut it down, but it’s a lot easier this year since Patrick is there to hold it straight when it starts wobbling and then he helps Pete carry it down the hill with Skylar trailing behind. After they pay for it and get the tree on top of Pete’s car, they head into the small bakery. 

“Thank God,” Patrick breathes once they get inside. 

“So dramatic,” Pete grins, picking up Skylar so she can look at the bagels behind the counter. 

Pete’s not sure when he’ll get used to this feeling, like he feels more complete. He’s never, well, he didn’t try to think about how empty he had felt when it was just him and Skylar. And it’s not that she didn’t make him happy. No fucking question about it, she’s his favorite person in the world--but having Patrick with them feels like they’ve finally balanced out. 

He feels warm and almost dizzy as he watches Skylar tug on Patrick’s hand and lead him to the stockings when they walk into the market. Patrick sips at his hot chocolate and looks intently at every stocking she points out to him. Pete hangs back, just letting them have this moment. He’s more than happy to watch the look of admiration on Patrick’s face as Skylar smiles when she finds a different design she likes and holds it out to him. 

They end up loaded up in the car, driving back to the city with Skylar asleep in her carseat and Patrick holding a stocking with music notes. 

*

“Ok, I think you need to start answering your phone when your mom calls,” Patrick sighs, rolling silverware into napkins, “She’s starting to blow up my phone too.”

Pete shrugs as he buffs out wine glasses. “Block her.”

Patrick makes a pained expression. “I’m not blocking your mom, I want her to like me.”

“Such a kiss ass,” Pete teases, moving to set the wine glasses on the last of the tables. 

Andy and Skylar are setting up the last of the holiday decorations and, stepping back, Pete is _proud_ . He can’t remember a project that he felt this excited about, can’t remember the last time he got out of bed and was thrilled about it because it meant he got to go to _work_. Fucking mind blowing. 

Patrick hums and steps in front of Pete, adjusting his tie. “Did your daughter tie this for you? It’s got jam on the end,” he says, with a fond smile. 

Pete sighs and looks down. “Really?”

“We’ll get it out with some club soda,” Patrick says gently, tugging on it to pull Pete in for a kiss. He grins against his lips and thinks back to their first date--or first date without Skylar. 

“Alright, lovebirds,” Andy says, “People are starting to arrive.”

“I’m on Skylar duty,” Patrick says, pulling back, “You do your chef stuff.”

Pete rolls his eyes. “Andy’s the chef. I work the front.”

“Whatever,” Patrick winks, “Oh, I see Gerard.”

Patrick goes to scoop up Skylar and brings her outside to meet up with Gerard and Zeplin, Frank trailing behind with something that looks like a cake tin. 

“You know, you’re not supposed to bring dessert to a restaurant opening,” Pete chuckles when they get inside. 

“No, this is for Andy,” Frank says, “It’s my cheesecake that I told him about.”

“Oh, well he’s in the back,” Pete says. 

Zeplin and Skylar are already in the corner pestering Garbage when Gerard makes his way over. He puts an arm around his shoulders. “Looks great.”

“Thanks,” Pete blushes, watching as more people come in. 

“So, um, Zeplin sorta told me what’s going on…”

“Oh,” Pete’s face falls, “I was going to tell people when--”

“Hey, no, that’s not it at all,” Gerard says, squeezing his shoulders. He leads him over to a table and they sit down. “I was just going to say, my brother, Mikey, works in family law.”

“Oh?” Pete asks, his eye lighting up. 

“Yeah,” Gerard says, leaning back, “So, if it does go to that, he can help out.”

Pete hadn’t even really started looking for lawyers. The whole thing made his head spin and he was trying to just put it in the back of his head, maybe think about it after the holidays. He knew that he’d have to answer his parent’s calls one of these days. He listened to their voicemails and cringed at how they got more and more daunting with “your father’s firm is representing Jeanae” and “can’t believe you were drunk in front of Sky” and “we just want Sky to have a family” and “not that we don’t like Patrick, but…”

Patrick had been good at distracting him, had taken him out holiday shopping one night when they could get Andy to babysit. 

“What should I get Skylar?” Patrick had asked, flipping through books at Barnes and Noble, “I really don’t know her reading level. It seems a bit further from kindergarten, that’s for sure.”

Pete snorted and took the overly pink book from Patrick’s hands, “She likes sci-fi books or fantasy. Or nonfiction, especially if it’s about space. She’s been really into space ever since she watched that documentary about black holes with you the other day.”

Patrick beamed. “Yeah, ok, that sounds good. I should get her something fun though too, right?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “It’s Skylar, nerding out is fun to her.”

And when they weren’t shopping, Pete was building gingerbread houses with Skylar while Patrick wrapped gifts in the secrecy of their bedroom--Pete’s bedroom. Or they were decorating the apartment, and Pete couldn’t help the flutter of his heart when he saw Patrick lift Skylar up so she could put the star on the tree. Or when he saw Patrick’s stocking hanging in between his and Skylar’s. 

“Pete,” Andy says, coming up behind him and setting his hands on Pete’s shoulders, “Show time.”

“We’ll talk later,” Gerard promises with a warm smile. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Pete says, getting up to follow Andy. 

*

The evening goes by in a blur. 

Pete helps Andy bring out dishes and refills glasses of wine and sparkling water. He trades kisses with Patrick in between courses and ruffles Skylar’s hair as he walks by. He watches Frank slip in the kitchen and chat with Andy about different recipes, both of them geeking out over some brand of oat milk. 

It tugs at Pete’s heart to see all his favorite people in one sitting. And how they’re all a family to Skylar. How Patrick bribes her to eat more broccoli with promises of extra dessert. How Gerard sticks straws together to make wands for Zeplin and Skylar to play with. How Frank comes over to them and lets them have their first pick of desserts. How Andy brings over the cat toys to play with Garbage now that dinner’s over. How Brendon squats down so he’s at her level and talks to her about what she asked Santa for this year. 

Pete doesn’t realize he’s close to tears until Patrick catches his eyes and tilts his head in a _are you ok?_

Pete smiles softly and pulls out his phone, pointing to it. 

Patrick nods slowly, eyes still cautious as Pete wipes at his eyes and steps outside. 

His mom had texted him Jeanae’s number with hopes that he’d reach out to her before any of this erupted. Before talks of lawyers and split holidays. 

It’s Christmas Eve, so he didn’t really expect her to answer. He’s almost grateful that he gets her voicemail. 

“Hey,” he starts softly, “I know things have been...not so great and I haven’t handled this maybe the best way.” He pauses and turns to look back into the restaurant and sees Skylar climbing sleepily into Patrick’s lap, which he knew would happen after she crashed from all the sugar Patrick had let her have. “But, can we start over?” He asks, wincing a bit at how his voice cracks, “We--I’ll, fuck, we can figure something out, right? You just...you _can’t_ take her away from me. You can’t break my family like this.”

Patrick looks out the window and catches Pete’s eyes again, frowning a little. 

“Please,” Pete whispers, sniffling.

And then he hangs up. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete leans forward and says bitterly, “You understand that I didn’t get a timeout to fix myself, right? You think that I was in any state to be a dad?”
> 
> “Petey, I’m--”
> 
> “Don’t,” he interrupts her, “I’m not...I don’t give a fuck that you were a shitty person, I really don’t, ok? And I don’t care that you’ve had a sudden change in your heart--”
> 
> “Sudden?” Jeanae scoffs, “Pete I thought about her every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No moodboard again because I'm posting this at 3AM before I can fuck around with the ending some more.

Pete orders tea instead of coffee because he’s not sure his already racing heart can handle the caffeine. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Patrick had asked that morning, “We can see if Andy or Gerard can watch Sky.”

“No,” Pete sighed, “I should meet up with her alone.”

Patrick leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m not really sure that’s a great idea.”

Pete shrugged and turned back to loading the dishes into the washer, something he had been doing to keep busy until he had to leave. He feels Patrick’s arms circle around his waist. “I just know how much she gets to you.”

“Pete?”

Pete turns and it’s like the clock turned back five years. And it’s not even that he still loves her, not in that way. Sure, in the instinctual way that he loves the mother of his daughter, that he  _ wants _ to think that he created this beautiful person with someone worthy of his love. It’s so fucking confusing at the same time though, because he wants to hate her at the same time. He wants to scream at her,  _ push _ her and fuck, he wishes there was a way to show her all the times Skylar cried because she didn’t have a mom. He wants her to feel the same pain he felt when he held Skylar as she walked out, and he wants her to feel as lonely as he did when he brought up that little girl all alone for five years. 

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, jumping when the barista clears his throat and hands him his tea. He takes it then walks hesitantly towards Jeanae. 

“Want to sit?” She asks softly, gesturing to a small table by the window. 

Pete nods and follows her over, sitting down cautiously and sipping at his tea. She stares at him, like she’s remembering that summer too. Like she’s taking inventory and seeing what’s changed. “You look good,” she says, “better than the last time.”

Pete cringes. “Yeah, sorry, that’s not...I don’t normally get like that.”

“I know,” she answers, “Your mom told me you were going through a hard time.”

Pete looks down at his tea and he wishes he had brought Patrick, he would be able to fill in these awkward pauses. He’d get straight to the point and ask Jeanae why on God’s green Earth should she even get to breathe near Skylar. And Pete smiles at the thought of Patrick getting all protective of Skylar. 

“I just--” she starts at the same time that Pete says, “Do you--”

Jeanae blushes and Pete almost feels twenty again, watching her skin turn pink under the sun. “Go ahead,” he says softly. 

She bites her glossed bottom lip and sighs, leaning back in her seat, then shifting forward and putting her elbows on the table. “Look, I get why you don’t want me to see her. I mean, even if it was a vindictive thing, I would understand. I would fucking fight you---”

“I know,” Pete chuckles. 

She grins and tucks her hair behind her ear, “but I know you. I know you’re not like that. So, I can’t really be all that mad because you’re just looking out for her and I was a really shitty mom.”

Pete stares back down at his tea so he doesn’t nod in agreement or try to console her and tell her she did what she thought was right. And he really wishes Patrick was here now because he’d help him figure this out, to make the right choice here. 

“Where have you been?”

Pete’s sort of surprised that came out of his mouth and he looks up to watch Jeanae’s perfectly tweezed brows furrow. “That’s fair,” she whispers, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms. 

Pete busies himself with his tea and waits. He’s good at waiting, he’s been doing it for five years. 

“I dropped out of school,” she says, “And I was sort of in a bad place for a while, I did a lot of shitty things to myself and other people.” She frowns then shrugs, “I moved back home for awhile and then I went to cosmetology school because I’m a fucking cliche.”

Pete grins and she smiles a little too. 

“I finished school and got a job at a salon,” she shrugs, “I bought a house and met a guy, he’s sort of why I’m here.”

Pete straightens in his seat. “Yeah?”

Jeanae rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Pete. I found someone who made me think I deserved a second chance.”

Pete shifts in his seat. “Ok, so you’ve got a nice job now and a house. You have this guy who’s apparently awesome too, and so you think you’re in a good place for Skylar, is that it?”

She frowns, “Um, yeah?”

Pete leans forward and says bitterly, “You understand that I didn’t get a timeout to fix myself, right? You think that I was in any state to be a dad?”

“Petey, I’m--”

“Don’t,” he interrupts her, “I’m not...I don’t give a fuck that you were a shitty person, I really don’t, ok? And I don’t care that you’ve had a sudden change in your heart--”

“Sudden?” Jeanae scoffs, “Pete I thought about her every day.”

“Bullshit,” Pete hisses, “You didn’t even think about her when you were in the same room as her.”

“I was scared.”

“I wasn’t?” Pete challenges, “You really think I was so on board to be a dad at twenty? That I had my shit together to take care of another human being? You remember that I was with you all summer right? You saw--”

“Yes, ok? Yeah, I get it. You were fucked too and you’re mad that I left before--”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What you just--”

“No, Sweetheart, far from it,” Pete bites out. “I was never going to leave Sky. I have  _ never _ thought about leaving her.”

“Well that’s not exactly true,” Jeanae whispers. 

Pete sits back in his chair, feeling like he’s been slapped in the face. 

“I didn’t--”

“Yes you did,” Pete whispers, and he rubs at his face before leaning his elbows on the table and staring down at his knees. If Patrick was here he’d tell him to put aside whatever he was feeling and decide what was best for Skylar. And part of him wants to say that Skylar is better off without Jeanae, that she will grow up just fine without seeing her mom. He thinks about how they’ve made it this far, and now they even have Patrick--they don’t need Jeanae. But it’s not “them” in this situation, it’s just Skylar. This is something that’s just for her and Pete has to think around the tangle of feelings he has for this woman across the table. 

Because not agreeing to let Jeanae see Skylar will bring down a custody battle over his head. And there’s part of him that’s pretty scared he’d lose. Even though he’s been the one taking care of Sky her whole life, he thinks that there’s plenty they could dig up and present to a judge that will prove Pete is just fucking making things up as he goes along. And he really thinks that’s what most parents do anyway, but they’re just so much better at hiding it maybe. And he’s really fucking winging it here because he says, “Ok.”

“Ok?” Jeanae asks tentatively. 

It’s not just the custody battle that Pete is avoiding. He knows that alone will put Skylar through so much, the little bit that has already happened is already driving Skylar to fight at school and lock herself in her room. But it’s more than that. It’s imagining Skylar getting ready for prom one day and crying because she doesn’t have her mom with her to help her with her hair, not that Pete doesn’t do fucking killer hair--it’s just not the same he’s sure. And then he thinks about her wedding day and all these other important milestones that Skylar deserves her mother with her and he  _ can’t  _ be the person that deprives her of that. He doesn’t want to watch Skylar grow up to hate him for taking that choice from her. 

And there’s that fear of what if Jeanae leaves them again? What if she comes back in Skylar’s life and Skylar gets all used to having her around only to watch her leave again? And that part really fucking hurts because he has the chance to save her from that heartache, but he just can’t, won’t be the one that stands in the way of her chance of having everything. Because Jeanae could be telling the truth. She could have her life together and be serious about being in Skylar’s life again, and it could be really good for Skylar. 

There’s so many ‘what ifs’ and ‘could bes’ and the only thing that makes sense is for Pete to agree that, “We can try to work something out.”

*

Pete goes back and forth with Patrick about telling Skylar that they’re not just going ice skating, that she’s about to meet her mom--properly this time anyway. Patrick thought it was better for Skylar to have some sort of warning so she wasn’t blindsided, but Pete couldn’t fucking do it. He didn’t want to freak her out and she looked so happy with the new ice skates that she got for Christmas, that he couldn’t wipe that smile from her face.

Patrick gives him a look, but doesn’t say anything as Pete gets her buckled in her carseat. 

“Shut up,” Pete mumbles as he slides into the driver's seat. He sits there for a moment then sighs and says, “Can you--”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, already getting out of the car. 

They switch places and then Patrick is driving towards the ice rink. It was Patrick’s idea to go somewhere public so the both of them would behave and not argue in front of Skylar, and Pete hopes that’s the case. It’s also a good idea for there to be an activity so Skylar can focus on something other than meeting the woman who’s been missing from her life for all this time. 

“Ok,” Patrick had said the night before, stretching out in bed. “So, you’re agreeing to let Jeanae and Skylar hang out?”

Pete nodded, setting his book down and laying back against the pillow. “Yeah.”

“Then what?”

Pete looked over at him. “What do you mean?”

Patrick turned over on his side so he could look at Pete. “Well, are you going to let her have Skylar on weekends or something?”

“What?” Pete asked, sitting up.

Patrick sat up too and put a hand on his shoulder. “Pete, what did you think--”

“I’m not, ok?” Pete sighed, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. Patrick moved to sit behind him and pulled him back so that his back was against Patrick’s chest. 

“Maybe just take things slow at first,” Patrick said gently, “Let her visit with Skylar while you’re there, then you guys can talk about alternating weekends.”

“Ok, so you really can’t leave me now,” Pete murmured, pulling Patrick’s arms around him, “You’re my voice of reason.”

Patrick chuckled and nuzzled against the back of his neck. 

Pete took a deep breath and let it out before saying, “I’m serious, Patrick. I don’t think I could have gotten through this without you.”

Patrick kissed his shoulder. “You could have, but it doesn’t matter. I was never going to leave.”

Pete turned and wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist, “Yeah, you’re stuck with us now.”

Patrick just grinned and whispered, “Good,” before kissing him. 

“So I’ll get Skylar in her skates if you want to go meet up with Jeanae,” Patrick says quietly when they pull up to the rink. 

Pete looks back at Skylar who seems still oblivious to what’s going on and nods. “Yeah sure,” he tells Patrick, then he reaches back and taps Skylar on the nose. “I’ll meet you guys in there, ok?”

“Ok,” Skylar says with a smile. 

Pete stares at her then nods, yeah ok. He gets out of the car and waits for Patrick to get Skylar out of the car. Patrick kisses Pete’s cheek then says, “Deep breath,” before walking inside to get their tickets. 

Pete leans back against the car and scans the parking lot before realizing he doesn’t know what kind of car Jeanae drives. He pulls out his phone and texts her that he’s up at the front of the lot and waiting outside his car. 

Moments later she shows up bundled up in her coat and a hat. She looks like she’s about to throw up too, so that makes him feel a bit better. He smiles gently at her, because he sorta feels for her. This is a big deal to her, regardless of what her long term intentions are. 

“Ready?” Pete asks. 

She nods shyly. They’re about to walk inside when she puts her hand on Pete’s arm to stop him. He turns and raises an eyebrow.  She frowns and looks down at her shoes. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Jeanae,” Pete says softly, taking a step to her. 

“I mean, I don’t think you’d trash talk me to her, but still. She has to have some sort of idea what--”

“Stop,” Pete says, then he sighs and pulls her into a hug. It’s fucking weird, like his body is remembering that it’s been here before but his mind is circling through old memories and shouting  _ abort, abort! _ But he hugs her tighter because this isn’t about him. “She’s five, ok? She doesn’t know how to hold a grudge.”

Jeanae sniffles, but laughs a little. 

Pete pulls back and looks at her, tilting her chin up. “And she’s your daughter. I have it under good authority that she’s pretty forgiving towards family.”

Jeanae’s eyes fill up with tears and she presses her face into Pete’s chest. Pete sighs and hugs her again. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. 

“I know,” Pete says back, then he says against her ear, “I know you are, but you have a chance to make this right. And if you disappoint her by not even trying, then I can’t guarantee you that I’ll give you another shot at this.”

Jeanae nods and takes a step back, wiping her tears away and nods again. “Ok, let’s go.”

Pete doesn’t move. “Get yourself together first. Take your time.”

Jeanae smiles weakly and takes a few deep breaths, pulling out a mirror from her purse to wipe away any running mascara. “Ok, I’m ready now.”

Pete nods, she looks a bit more pulled together. He reaches down to take her hand and she smiles, squeezing back. He laughs a little breathy, because it reminds him of when they were kids and then he leads her inside. Skylar is sitting on a bench while Patrick laces up her skates and her eyes light up when she sees Pete, but then she frowns a bit when she notices that he’s holding hands with Jeanae. Probably because the last time she saw Jeanae, they were arguing and Pete really wishes he could take back that night. 

He’s almost pulling Jeanae alone at this point, but they make it to Skylar and Patrick. Patrick looks up and his expression is carefully neutral as he looks at them and then he sees them holding hands and he frowns a little at that. Pete lets go of Jeanae’s hand and nudges her towards Skylar. 

“Hey, Sky, this is Jeanae,” Pete says, then looks at Jeanae and says, “She’s your mom.”

Jeanae smiles awkwardly before waving a little. Skylar looks up at her skeptically before crossing her arms and saying, “If you’re  _ really _ my mom, then what’s the order to watch  _ Star Wars _ ?”

Pete turns his head and grins at Patrick who looks like he’s trying to not laugh as well. His daughter is amazing, holy fuck.

“Um,” Jeanae starts looking at Pete for help, but he just winks at her, then she sighs and says, “Four through six first, then start with episode one?”   


Skylar holds her gaze for a moment before uncrossing her arms and taking her hand. “Ok, can we go skating now, dad?” She asks, looking up at Pete. 

Pete smiles and squats down to zip up her coat. “Why don’t you and your mom go out first? Patrick and I will be out in a second.”

Skylar hesitates but then nods. 

“Oh, I have to get skates,” Jeanae says, “I’ll just be…” she trails off, hurrying to the skate rental counter. 

Skylar shuffles to Pete and Pete hugs her. “Doing ok, kiddo?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. 

Patrick stares at Pete, clearly going through a lot of different thoughts and he’s sure he’ll hear them as soon as Skylar and Jeanae get on the ice. Pete keeps Skylar in his arms as Jeanae gets her skates on then reluctantly lets her go when Jeanae stands up. “Ready?”

Skylar nods and looks back at Pete. “You and dad are coming right out right?” She asks softly. 

Pete beams at her and nods. “Yeah, we’ll be right behind you.”

She looks up at Patrick and waits for him to nod before agreeing to go out to the rink with Jeanae. 

“So, I was a little peeved, but then Skylar called me dad again and that’s really not fair,” Patrick sighs. 

Pete grins and sits on the bench so he can get his skates on. “Why, because we were holding hands? Trick, she was having a breakdown.”

Patrick’s hand cups Pete’s cheek and turns him before Patrick is kissing him. And it’s not the type of kiss that Patrick usually gives in public. It’s possessive and makes Pete vibrate down to his toes. He grins against Patrick’s lips and whispers, “Maybe I should let her stick around if I get to see you all jealous. It’s kinda cute.”

“Shut up,” Patrick mumbles, nipping his bottom lip, “I’m not jealous.”

“Uh huh,” Pete chuckles. 

He watches Patrick put his skates on and there’s something still not right about his expression. It’s too careful and Pete knows that there’s still more to talk about, but maybe not right now when everything is still tense and whatever wounds he’s gotten today are still fresh. Pete puts his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Hey,” Pete whispers, leaning into him, “You’re her dad too.”

Patrick finishes getting his skates situated and he sighs. “I know, it’s not...I mean, sorta?”

“I know,” Pete says gently, rubbing his shoulder, “Let’s just get through today, ok?”

Patrick nods and leans in to kiss him again, less agitated and sweet. “Ok.”

*

Watching Skylar and her mom together is a little freaky. 

Watching them skate around the rink shakes something up in his stomach, like he’s drank too much soda and he’s about to explode into a fizzy mess.

Patrick hangs out along the railing with him for a bit while they watch them, Skylar waving at them whenever they skate by. “Come on,” Patrick says after a while, taking his hand. 

Pete smiles and lets Patrick lead him out on the ice, stumbling a bit and laughing. 

“Really?” Patrick teases, “You’re from Chicago and you don’t know how to skate?”

“Shut it,” Pete grumbles, gripping onto Patrick’s hand tighter. 

They make it around the rink,  _ very _ slowly, before Patrick says, “It looks like they’re getting along ok.”

Pete nods, focusing on trying not to fall on his ass. “Yeah, I don’t--”

“Hey,” Patrick says softly, squeezing his hand, “you don’t have to have a plan yet. Let’s just get through today, right?”

Pete smiles at the echo of his words and squeezes his hand back. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

He’s looking at Patrick and trips over his own feet, falling down and bringing Patrick down with him. Patrick starts laughing, trying to get up, but slipping and falling back down on Pete. Pete groans, but he’s grinning too. They’re a mess. 

“I thought you were supposed to be an athlete,” Patrick laughs. 

“On fucking land.”

“We  _ are _ on land, dumbass.”

“Technically we’re on water,” Pete chuckles, gripping onto Patrick’s hand and they work together to get back up on their feet. 

“Are you guys ok?” Jeanae asks, slowing down to a stop in front of them. 

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize I had two left feet on the ice,” Pete grins, watching Patrick still laugh at him. 

Skylar pulls on Patrick’s sleeve. “Can we get hot chocolate?”

Pete chuckles. “She goes to you because she knows you’ll give her sugar.”

Patrick takes Skylar’s hand and says, “Yeah, yeah, way to play the system.”

Pete rolls his eyes but winks at Skylar before they skate off to exit the rink. Jeanae watches them go. “I like him a lot.”

“Yeah we like him too,” Pete replies. 

Jeanae helps Pete to the railing so that they can make their way off the ice as well. They walk over to the fire pit and find some seats to save for Patrick and Skylar. “No really, I like him. Skylar likes him a lot it seems.”

Pete nods and fiddles with his hat a bit, sorta out of nerves. “Yeah, she loves him,” he amends, “He’s family.”

“I know that,” Jeanae says, “I’m not...I don’t want to ruin whatever you three have, ok? I’m not here to take her away or anything I just...I want more days like this.”

Pete looks at her. “Days like this?”

She nods. “Well, to start, you know?”--then she must see the look on Pete’s face because she quickly adds, “For a long time. Like, if you don’t want me around her alone--”

“It’s not that,” Pete says, surprising himself, “It’s not that I don’t want you to...you just haven’t really given much--”

“I know,” she says, “Which is why I want to prove it to you. I’m not leaving again. I want to make this work, even if it means that we all hang out for a bit every once and awhile. I mean, if that’s ok with you and Patrick.”

Pete smiles, a little warm at the fact that she’s including Patrick in this decision, and maybe that’s won her some points. “We’d like that. And I know Skylar would too. You two looked like you were getting along.”

Jeanae breaks into that wide smile that everyone has when they talk about Skylar. “She’s amazing, Pete, really. You did such a great job raising her,” she whispers and then looks away and Pete’s pretty sure she’s tearing up a bit. 

Pete leans forward. “You came back,” he softly, “That’s what she’s going to remember, not that you left.”

She looks back at him with glassy eyes and he sees that she’s already made her choice not to go anywhere. 

Patrick comes over with a drink tray full of hot chocolates. He waits until Skylar sits down before handing her one, “Careful,” he warns. 

Then he hands one to Pete and Jeanae. 

“Oh,” Jeanae says, “thank you.”

Patrick smiles at her and sits next to Pete. Pete leans against him watching Skylar move over to sit next to Jeanae and show her the different pins that Pete has pinned to her coat. And Pete’s never felt more content, feeling like everything is finally clicking into place. He watches Jeanae smile at the pin of Garbage that Gearard made her. Grins at the way Skylar moves her hands around as she talks, something she never used to do until they met Patrick. He sees his smile in her, sees Jeanae in her eyes, sees Patrick in her mannerisms and it feels like it...fuck, Pete doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh because he’s sort of delirious with it. Like he’s got too much oxygen to his brain. 

It’s sort of wild to think about. How he had spent so long being so anxious that he couldn’t breathe. Thinks back to that day in the school parking lot where he felt the weight of being a single parent on his shoulders, how suffocating that was. 

He knows that it’s not going to be suddenly easy now. That his “to-do” list has been growing and growing as the days ticked away. He knows that he and Jeanae need to have a longer talk about what her being in Skylar’s life looks like. He and Patrick still have things to work out, that they’re moving forward in this relationship and there’s going to be some scary-wonderful milestones coming up. He needs to talk to his parents, talk to them for a long time and hash out a lot of shit that’s been brought up since Jeanae returned and things that he’s been holding on to since he was a teenager. He needs to talk to Skylar to see where her mind is at with all of this. Also, he really should fucking talk to a therapist, because he’s starting to learn to ask for help. 

And he knows that all of this is fucking scary, maybe more scary than being a single parent in the school parking lot because he has more to lose now. But they’re worth it, they’re the reasons he’s been able to get out of bed. Reasons worth trying. Reasons to breathe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliche ending? Yes please. 
> 
> So the next chapter is the epilogue and then we're done, friends <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick sniffled, not really realizing he had been crying and muttered, “If you divorce me, I’m taking everything just out of spite.”
> 
> Pete huffed a laugh and kissed his knuckles. “That’s fine, I don’t plan on divorcing you.”
> 
> “I’m serious. I’ll even take all your hideous hoodies,” Patrick continued, “All of it, I’ll leave you with nothing but the clothes on your back.”
> 
> Pete shook his head, grinning. “You’re relentless, Stump.”
> 
> “Stump-Wentz,” Patrick said, considering, “I think that sounds better than Wentz-Stump.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, so this was supposed to be a cute little glimpse into the future for Pete and Patrick but then ended up being my longest chapter...

Patrick likes his routines. 

He sets multiple alarms because getting him out of bed is damn near impossible, then when he finally gets up, he heads to the shower where he takes his time letting the hot water wake him up gently. He’ll use his stupid expensive shampoo that’s apparently supposed to stop his hair from thinning, though he doesn’t really believe that. And then he’ll use his sandalwood soap to wash the rest of his body while his conditioner sits in his hair. Most days, he’ll take the time to jerk off before getting out and putting on the clothes he set out the night before. Then he’ll make a cup of coffee with his french press and toast some bread while he puts together a lunch to take to work. 

On the drive to work, he’ll listen to NPR or an audiobook while taking savoring sips of his coffee. He always leaves with plenty of time to get to work, so he doesn’t rush or get pissed when someone cuts him off. By the time he gets to work, he’s woken up all the way and is ready to start his day. 

At least, that’s how his mornings  _ used _ to be. 

Now he wakes up on the first alarm, because by then he’s already running late. He crawls out of bed and is about to climb the stairs up to Skylar’s bedroom to wake her up when he hears her groan loudly, “I have  _ nothing _ to wear!”

Patrick rolls his eyes, wishing that Pete was here instead of at the restaurant so he could deal with their daughter’s fashion crisis, he’s always better at handling those. Patrick climbs the stairs and winces as he hears Maverick start wailing. 

“Sky, just pick something. It’s the fifth grade, not New York fashion week,” Patrick calls when he walks past her room. 

He chuckles to himself when he hears her huff and slam her closet door. He’s really not looking forward to her being a teenager in a few years. 

“You’re never going to be a bratty teenager,” he coos to Maverick, picking him up from his crib and carrying him over to his changing table, “aren’t you? No, you’re going to be small and cute forever.”

Patrick hums while he’s changing Maverick’s diaper, swearing to himself that they’ll try the reusable ones again--it’s just that the disposable ones are so convenient. 

“Not convenient for the environment,” Skylar had grumbled as she tossed in the pack of Huggies into the shopping cart. 

Patrick had rolled his eyes. “Well when you have kids, you can raise them however you want.”

“Lions or dinosaurs today?” He asks, holding up the onesies to Maverick who just squeals and wiggles around. “Right, dinosaurs, what was I thinking?”

“Dad, I can’t find my backpack!”

Patrick sighs and quickly changes Maverick then carries him into Skylar’s room. “Did you check the living room?” 

He looks around her room and tries not to spontaneously combust at all the clothes spread out across the floor mixed in with the piles of books, action figures, art supplies, and Patrick is pretty sure that’s a bowl of slime sitting on the nightstand...great. “It’s no wonder you can’t find anything in here. I thought your dad told you to clean your room last night.”

Which he probably did, but Pete is horrible about following through with getting Skylar to clean anything up, claiming it’s “her room and she should be allowed to let her space reflect her creative process”. Patrick think’s Pete is hanging around Gerard too much. 

“I bet it’s downstairs in the living room,” Patrick says, “Hurry up and get dressed so you can actually eat something before we have to leave.”

“Do we still have those vegan pop tarts?”

“Yeah, I’ll put them in the toaster,” Patrick says heading back out of the room, “You’ve got five minutes to get downstairs.”

If anyone had told Patrick that this would be his life five years ago, he’d laugh in their face. He always wanted a family, but he was realistic-- “You mean pessimistic,” Pete would correct--and he never really forced the issue. Despite his mom’s nagging phone calls, he never went out of his way to meet anyone. And it wasn’t like his life wasn’t fulfilled, he loved teaching music and he still got to perform once a week. He had his hobbies and he liked having his weekends alone to wonder around museums or go to shows. He wasn’t unhappy with his life at all; having a family was just one of those far off dreams that you always wonder about, but never actually think is attainable. 

But then he had met Pete and, not to sound cliche, Patrick knew that he was the one the moment he saw him standing in the hallway looking as scared as his five year old daughter. And Patrick wanted a family, but he never thought he would get attached to Skylar as quickly as he did, though how could he not? 

“Don’t forget, your mom is picking you up from school to take you to gymnastics,” Patrick says when Skylar comes down the stairs. 

“Right,” she nods, opening the fridge to get out a carton of orange juice. 

Patrick watches her pour herself a glass, even though he knows she can handle it without spilling it. It’s just a knee jerk reaction, especially since they don’t have time for her to go change clothes again. Patrick sets Maverick in his highchair and spills out some Cheerios onto the tray. 

Skylar’s pop tarts come out of the toaster and Patrick grabs them and sets them on a plate before handing them to her. While the kids are eating, Patrick pours himself some coffee from their automatic machine that Pete always starts for him and then hurries back upstairs to his room to get dressed. 

He doesn’t have time to take a leisurely shower anymore, instead he’s in and out under five minutes with just enough time to make sure he doesn’t smell like baby puke and then he’s hurrying through buttoning up his shirt and sliding into slacks. 

“Dad, Maverick is trying to put cereal up his nose!”

“Well, stop him!" Patrick yells back, trying to tie his shoes and hurry down the steps at the same time--which is honestly asking for a trip to the Urgent Care, so he slows down because they’ll really be late if they have to stop to have Patrick’s arm popped back into place. 

He looks at the clock on the oven and groans, “Fuck, we’re late.”

“Dad yo--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, pulling Maverick out of his highchair, “Shoes on, then let's go.”

He’s guzzling his coffee while rushing through traffic to get Maverick to daycare when his phone rings and Pete’s mom’s number comes up on the caller ID. He hands the phone back to Skylar, “It’s grandma. I’m sure she wants to wish you good luck on your first day.”

Skylar rolls her eyes, but grins, “It’s just the fifth grade.”

Patrick chuckles as she answers the phone and tries to downplay how excited she is to be starting school again. Pete had been nervous that Skylar would never get into a good groove with school, but once things settled down between Pete and Jeanae, Skylar started coming out of her shell more. Pete likes to think it’s because of Patrick, and Patrick always denies it and tells him it’s because she has both her parents again. “You’re her parent,” Pete would always insist whenever they got into that conversation. 

And it had taken Patrick some time to really come to terms with that. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ want _ to be her dad, it was more so that he didn’t feel like he had deserved it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Pete had demanded when Patrick let it slip. 

Patrick hadn’t really known how to explain it. It didn’t seem fair that Skylar just loved and trusted him without him doing anything. 

“That’s not how love works, babe,” Pete whispered, “You don’t have to  _ earn _ it.”

Patrick had started to go to therapy, partly because it made Pete better about going, and he started learning how his parents’ divorced had really affected his thoughts about love and family. How Patrick worked to get straight As and get into the best college was mostly to get their attention and feel their praise, to feel worth it. Because if they could stop loving each other one day, what was to stop them from loving him? 

“Trick,” Pete murmured, pulling him into his arms, and Patrick still hasn’t gotten used to how safe he feels with Pete, “That’s not going to happen with us. We’re not your parents.”

“Alright,” Patrick says, pulling up to Maverick’s daycare, “hang tight here, I’ll be right back.”

Skylar nods, still on the phone with her grandma. Patrick gets Maverick out and grabs his diaper bag before heading inside. Patrick’s eyes are already watering. It’s not the first time he’s had to take Maverick to daycare, but after a summer of being able to be with both his kids all day, he’s starting to feel it just as fresh as the first day. 

Cassadee is super sweet and whisks Maverick out of Patrick’s arms as soon as he gets into the nursery. “Go on,” she says softly, giving him a wink. 

Patrick hesitates, thinking about calling into school and taking Maverick back home with him. 

“Patrick,” Cassadee says knowingly. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, “Pete’s picking him up around three.”

“I know,” she grins, and then she gives him a look. 

“Fine, fine,” Patrick says setting his diaper bag down on one of the nearby tables, “Don’t kill my kid, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good first day!” Cassadee calls out to him as he makes his way out of the daycare, dabbing at his eyes to get himself together before getting back in the car with Skylar. 

“Grandma wants to talk to you,” Skylar says, holding out the phone. 

Patrick hesitates before taking the phone. His relationship has gotten better with Pete’s parents, but it took him a while to get over how they handled Jeanae coming back into the picture. He had tried to be neutral about it all while Pete was going through it, not wanting to get him more riled up, but Pete’s parents really pissed him off. 

Pete had waited a bit to cool down before he went over there alone to talk to them about staying out of Pete’s business. And Patrick sort of understood where his parents were coming from. Their son had been a parent way too young and he had gone through a lot of...scary things--Patrick still doesn’t like to really think about Pete swallowing all those pills, even if he didn’t do it to kill himself. So Patrick can see why they wanted to be more involved with his and Skylar’s life. And maybe that worked when they were younger and Pete was still struggling, but Patrick thinks back to that year and how much both he and Skylar grew in just a few months. 

“Hey, Mrs. Wentz,” Patrick answers. 

“Patrick, how many times have I told you that you can just call me mom,” she sighs. Yeah, Patrick thinks, not going to happen. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

And fuck, sometimes it’s really hard to be mad at her for meddling when she’s really sweet about it. Because, yeah, Patrick’s about to cry again. “It’s hard, but I’m okay. I’m thinking about going over there for my lunch break.”

She chuckles and then dives into a story about how she was a wreck when she had to take Pete to daycare for the first time.

By the time he gets to the school, they’re  _ really _ late, but he feels a lot better. Patrick doesn’t do drop off duty anymore, he’s never able to get to school on time and Joe sort of took pity on him and just assigned him recess duty instead. He gets out of the car and grabs his bag and coffee, sighing with relief that they finally made it. He did it, everything is smooth sailing from here.

“Dad! We forgot my backpack!” Skylar wails. 

*

Patrick is the kind of tired where he’s deliriously energized by the time he gets home. He’s glad and sad at the same time that Skylar is spending the night at Jeanae’s tonight. 

They’ve got this pretty awesome set up where Skylar spends the night at Jeanae’s on Wednesdays and every other weekend, which is pretty typical for parents that split custody. It’s just awesome because it had taken them a while to get to this point and Patrick’s glad that Skylar is surrounded by people who are willing to work together and make sure Skylar feels loved and taken care of. Patrick was pretty wary of Jeanae in the beginning and it wasn’t until Jeanea called him one night and asked him out for a couple of beers that he tried to really get to know her.

And then it was sort of hard to hate her because she’s actually pretty awesome. Patrick thinks there’s still a part of him that will always be sad that she felt so desperate that she felt like she had to abandon Pete and Skylar, but he tries to remember that she was so young and scared--and she didn’t have the support system that Pete had. Apparently Jeanae’s parents were pretty nonexistent after she graduated high school and all but changed the locks after she went away to college, so it sort of put things into perspective for Patrick. 

Patrick pretty much agreed with Pete that they all needed to put the past aside and realize that the only thing that mattered was that Jeanae made Skylar her priority now, which she had. And Patrick could see that Skylar seemed more at ease with Jeanae back in her life. It wasn’t that Pete wasn’t enough, it was just that Skylar had grown up thinking her mom didn’t love her. Patrick had to sit up with Pete those first few nights when Skylar stayed at Jeanae’s and remind him of that, but they had gotten past that pretty quickly when Pete saw how much happier Skylar was. 

Patrick sets his bag by the front door and wanders into the living room, bursting into a smile when he sees Pete asleep on the couch with Maverick nestled in the curve of his arm. Patrick can’t help it and pulls out his phone to take a photo even though he has countless of similar ones. 

He forgot to put it on silent mode though, so the shutter sound wakes Pete and then he’s grinning knowingly at Patrick. “Hey, how was your first day back?”

“It was fine,” Patrick says, “Though I’m a little sad I don’t have Skylar in my class this year.”

Pete snorts. “You know it’s nothing personal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t compete with Gerard.”

Pete narrows his eyes. “You know that’s not it. She likes art, Patrick, and she’s really g--”

“I know,” Patrick huffs, but he’s grinning, because he’s pretty proud of Skylar. She’s gotten even more into drawing over the years, so much so that Gerard suggested she take an extra art class with him this year. 

Patrick strokes Maverick’s small hand. “We can still make this one into a rockstar.”

Pete smiles, “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m thinking we just order in tonight,” Patrick says softly, “No Skylar means we can have all the bacon we want.”

Pete laughs and he nods. “Oh my god, let’s get a meat lovers pizza with extra everything.”

“I knew I married you for a reason,” Patrick hums, kissing him. 

Pete smiles that earth shattering smile that always appears when Patrick talks about them being married. Because it had all taken all but pulling teeth to get Patrick to the altar. 

It had been...pretty bad. Really bad, even, when Pete got down on one knee at his and Andy’s Christmas Eve dinner and Patrick ran out of the restaurant. Pete, of course, had followed him and grabbed his arm. 

“What the hell, Patrick?”

Patrick was pretty hysterical, and Pete pulled Patrick into his arms and hugged him. “Hey, shh, it’s ok, I’m not mad,” he murmured, “Baby, breathe, you’re ok.”

And it had taken Pete to run back inside to grab Patrick’s inhaler, which helped a little even if it was psychosomatic, to calm him down enough to say, “I love you.”

Pete smiled gently. “I know that,” he said softly, then slipped the ring back in his pocket and sighed, “Which is sorta why I thought you’d say yes.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Patrick had said, then when Pete raised an eyebrow, “It’s just that…” he trailed off because he couldn’t explain the fear that exploded in his chest when he saw Pete hold out a ring. Part of him was quick to blame his parent’s divorce, that it had sort of ruined the idea of marriage to him. Another part still was delusional in thinking that he wasn’t that involved in Skylar’s life, that if he and Pete broke up she wouldn’t be that upset--but if they were married and got a divorce...which was all fucking stupid and Patrick was being ridiculous. 

“Look,” Pete sighed, taking a step back and Patrick panicked a little, “Saying yes doesn’t mean I’m going to drag you down the aisle tomorrow.”

Patrick snorted, because it sorta did sound like something Pete would do. 

Pete rolled his eyes and pulled the ring back out of his pocket and Patrick took a step back, causing Pete to hesitate. “Ok,” he said softly, deflating a little, “Let’s just table this for now.”

And Patrick had been stupid to think that would be the end of that, but it always managed to worm its way into every fucking argument that he and Pete had for the year after that. Even something as stupid as Pete forgetting to pick up toothpaste when he was at the store somehow became Patrick’s fault because he wouldn’t fucking marry him and “I thought you were in this!”

“I am!” Patrick had yelled, “But how does a piece of paper make me a better parent to Skylar or partner to you?”

Pete shivered. “I fucking hate that. I don’t want you to be my partner, I want you to be my  _ husband _ . I want to see a ring on your finger that matches mine. I want stupid monogrammed towels with our initials on it and I fucking want Skylar to have your last name too!”

Patrick sat down at that and muttered, “What?”

Pete sighed and crossed his arms. “It’s not just a piece of paper, you know that. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so freaked out.”

“It just…” Patrick starts, then clears his throat, “I don’t know how to explain it to you.”

Pete knelt down in front of him and took his hands in his. “Try.”

Patrick stared at his hands in Pete’s and after a while he said, “If you leave--”

“Babe, I’m not going to.”

“You don’t--”

“Stop,” Pete breathed, squeezing his hands, “I know you think that all marriages end one way or another, but Patrick when have we  _ ever _ been like everyone else? Why the fuck would you cheapen us like that?”

Patrick sniffled, not really realizing he had been crying and muttered, “If you divorce me, I’m taking everything just out of spite.”

Pete huffed a laugh and kissed his knuckles. “That’s fine, I don’t plan on divorcing you.”

“I’m serious. I’ll even take all your hideous hoodies,” Patrick continued, “All of it, I’ll leave you with nothing but the clothes on your back.”

Pete shook his head, grinning. “You’re relentless, Stump.”

“Stump-Wentz,” Patrick said, considering, “I think that sounds better than Wentz-Stump.”

Pete snorted, “You would,” then, when he realized what Patrick had said, “Wait, are you saying yes?”

Patrick rolled his eyes and wiggled his hands free from Pete’s and held his left hand out. Pete pulled the ring out of his back pocket, and it sorta fucked with Patrick’s heart to realize that Pete had been carrying around the ring all year just in case Patrick would change his mind. 

“Do you want to take him?” Pete murmurs softly, “I’ll order the pizza.”

Patrick nods and scoops Maverick up, holding him up to his chest and patting his back gently. Maverick’s been doing this super  _ awesome _ thing where he takes a nap in the evening which means he always wakes up at two in the morning crying. Patrick’s trying to break him of that cycle, which earns him a piercing cry when he wakes Maverick up. 

“I know,” Patrick coos, rubbing his back and walking to the fridge to pull out one of the pacifiers they have chilling to soothe his gums. 

“Let’s have a baby,” Pete had whispered to Patrick one night.    


Patrick set his pen down and looked up from the papers he was grading. “What?”

Pete grinned and turned the laptop he had been using around so Patrick could see that Pete had been looking into finding a surrogate. 

“Pete, what the fuck?” Patrick breathed.

“You haven’t thought about it?” Pete asked, reaching out to take Patrick’s hand, thumb worrying at Patrick’s wedding band. 

It wasn’t that Patrick hadn’t thought about it, it was just that it all seemed really fast. Though, Pete could move at snail speed and Patrick would still get spooked--which he thinks is a little funny when he thinks about how patient he had to be with Pete when they first started dating. It felt like he had finally got his footing with Skylar and really felt like he was her parent too. He had finally gotten used to signing his name as “Patrick Stump-Wentz” and he thought maybe they could coast for a bit. 

But that wasn’t really Pete’s style. 

“We just bought this house with all this space,” Pete continued, “There’s that small bedroom that we’ve just been using as a junk room, which would be a really sweet nursery. Think about it, Trick.”'

“I am,” Patrick breathed, staring at the computer screen. 

“And I was thinking,” Pete said, “That you know, you’d be the one to…”

Patrick’s eyes snapped up to Pete’s. “To…”

“You know,” Pete grinned, “Masturbate into a cup?”

Patrick dropped his head into his hands. “Oh my God.”

“I’m just saying!” Pete hurried, “You know, Skylar...I just thought you’d want, that you’d--”

“I don’t need a kid to look like me to be--”

“That’s not what I mean,” Pete said, “I promise, I just thought--”

“I know,” Patrick breathed. He knows that not it. It’s true, Patrick doesn’t need their kid to look like him. But fuck, wow, that’s pretty heavy. 

And then Patrick started laughing, because, fuck, he’s never going to be able to say no to Pete. Not that he even wants to. Pete has this way of knowing exactly what Patrick wants before he even knows it. And maybe that’s why he gets so spooked, having someone that knows him so thoroughly. It’s terrifying, because it’s not like he can chicken out and say it’s not something he wants. Pete knows better. 

“Ok,” Patrick giggled, looking up from his hands and Pete’s expression was priceless. 

*

“My eyes just went crossed, didn’t it?” Pete gasps, his back arching off the bed as Patrick pulls off his cock. 

“A little,” Patrick giggles, pressing a kiss to his hip. 

Pete grips Patrick’s hair tighter, “That doesn’t mean you have to stop you know.”

Patrick chuckles and licks up to his belly button, squeezing the base of Pete’s cock in his hand. “I don’t know, maybe,” he murmurs, “I don’t want your face to get stuck that way.”

“You’re so not funny,” Pete whines, tugging on Patrick’s hair harder. 

“Careful,” Patrick murmurs, giving the head of his cock a teasing lick, “Remember the last time you did that?”

Pete shudders, no doubt thinking back to last week when Patrick had used his ties to bound Pete to their bed and took his time pulling Pete apart, ignoring Pete’s pleads to just “fuck me already!” Patrick had grinned at the marks around Pete’s wrists, knowing he’d have to wear long sleeves for a few days to hide them. 

“Please,” Pete breathes.

“So polite,” Patrick murmurs, grabbing the bottle of lube next to them and coating his fingers. 

“Please, please, please,” Pete chants, then moans loudly as Patrick presses two fingers into him. Patrick mouths at Pete’s hip, tracing his tongue around the bone that protruded there, and he isn’t really sure why he has such a fascination with Pete’s hips, but Pete isn’t really complaining. He works another finger in before pressing against his prostate and grinning when Pete calls out, letting himself be loud since Skylar isn’t home. 

Patrick sits up and back on his calves and watches his fingers disappear in Pete, biting back a moan when Pete starts rocking against his fingers. “Ready, baby?” Patrick whispers. 

Pete just spreads his legs further apart and, fuck, Patrick needs to be in him right now. Patrick shifts them so that he can kiss him as he pushes in, stilling when he bottoms out and rests his forehead against Pete’s. Pete looks up at him, and sometimes it scares him how intense it is. Maybe “scares him” the wrong way to put it, Patrick thinks. It’s just that, after all these years, he’d think that it wouldn’t be like the first time every time. That he shouldn’t be lucky enough to look at Pete and feel that same surge of love he did that first night. 

And then Patrick can’t take it anymore and lifts Pete’s leg, bends him so he’s at that perfect angle that always sends him into a moaning mess, then really starts to fuck him. He loves this. Loves every minute of hearing Pete pant Patrick’s name like it’s a prayer and a curse all at once, like he’s the only one that can drive him this mad with want and need and everything in between. 

Patrick bats Pete’s hand away from his cock, pinning his hands down against the mattress and smirking at the way Pete’s eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a shaky moan. Patrick loves getting Pete to come without touching his cock, loves the way it makes him have to stay in control and take his time to bring Pete there, loves how it always leaves Patrick shaking uncontrollably as he watches Pete come before he’ll allow his own release. 

“Come on, come on, “he breathes, lifting Pete’s hips for a moment to slide a pillow under him and then--”Fuck!” Pete shouts as Patrick hits that spot deep inside him over and over again. 

Patrick likes to take in the small signs of Pete’s orgasm creeping up on them. He hums against Pete’s throat when he hears his moans grow more breathless and strangled, runs his hand down his thigh when it starts to tremble, grips his hips when they start snapping up to meet Patrick’s thrusts and breathes against Pete’s ear, “Come on,  _ please _ .”

Pete’s body goes rigid and Patrick bites his lip as he feels Pete tighten around him, slowing his thrusts to watch Pete ride out the waves of pleasure washing over him. And then Pete’s keening and pulling at Patrick, urging him to chase after his own orgasm. He rains kisses along Patrick’s jaw, whispering how beautiful he is, how good he feels. 

Pete pulls Patrick to him as he comes, stroking his back and pressing kisses to his temple. “So beautiful, Trick, fuck, I love you,” Pete whispers as Patrick comes down and pants against Pete’s chest. 

Patrick kisses over Pete’s heart and is about to say something snarky about going for round two when he hears Maverick cry over the baby monitor. He looks up and chuckles when he sees that Pete’s held his finger to his nose. “Not it.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and pulls out of Pete, walking into the bathroom to throw some clothes on and grab a towel for Pete. He throws it at Pete’s face, smirking when he grumbles, “Gee, thanks. And they say romance is dead.”

“Pretty sure that’s the one that Maverick threw up on this morning,” Patrick teases, delighted in Pete’s squeal before saying, “Just kidding.”

“I fucking hate you,” Pete sighs, tossing the towel on the floor. 

Patrick kisses him. “Not true,” he murmurs, before walking down the hall and into Maverick’s room. 

He picks him up from his crib and cradles him to his chest, singing softly. He walks backwards until he feels the rocking chair behind him and takes a seat, rocking them gently. Patrick watches Maverick’s big blue eyes grow sleepier and then smiles once they close, his long lashes fanning out against his round, rosy cheeks. Patrick runs his hand over his soft strawberry blonde hair, hoping that the bits of hair that are sticking up are just from the way he was laying and not unforgiving cowlicks. He had really hoped his son would have better luck with his hair than he did, and Pete had just laughed at him and said, “Well, you can always pass down your hats if that’s the case.”

Some days it feels like he just brought Maverick home from the hospital, thinks he might cry all over again when he remembers how small he had felt in his arms. And then how big his heart had felt when he saw Pete hold him for the first time, his eyes wide and smile bright. “I forgot how magical this feels,” he breathed, tracing his finger over Maverick’s small hand. 

When he gets Maverick back to sleep, he holds him by the crib for a moment longer before setting him back down and returning to his bedroom. Pete’s sitting up against the headboard with his eyes closed and a soft smile on his lips. His eyes open when he hears Patrick come into their room. “I’ll never get used to how sweet it is to hear you sing to our son.”

Patrick blushes and crawls into bed next to him, smiling when Pete shifts so that he can pull Patrick into his arms. He drapes the blankets over them and nuzzles against the back of Patrick’s neck. 

Patrick doesn’t have much of a routine anymore. Most days he’s making decisions on the fly and hoping that he sticks the landing. He’s rushing through the mornings while trying to make sure he takes the time to savor those moments. Because Skylar is going into middle school next year, and Patrick’s already panicking about what parenting books he should rent from the library about those pre-teen years. Maverick’s already teething and soon his babbles are going to turn into full sentences. And his and Pete’s two year anniversary is coming up and Patrick marvels at how fast time is turning when it had felt like he was so stuck for years of his life. 

So he’s not really all that upset that his mornings aren’t slow and solitary anymore. That his clothes usually have baby puke on them by the end of the day or that his guitar has glitter glue on it. He’s completely fine that his NPR mornings have switched to baby songs about the alphabet and that his coffee is more out of necessity than pleasure these days. 

At the end of the day, he’s part of a family. And he loves how messy and chaotic that makes his life. He loves that Pete continuously pushes him in the forward direction and never lets him just fall stagnant in his life, that he’s always wanting more for him. Pete believes in Patrick enough to not let him just let life pass him by, he’s making sure he’s an active participant in it. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t slow days. There are still blue days for Pete and moments where Patrick’s temper gets the best of him, but they’re content on being a work in progress. 

Because it means they’re working. 

All of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm going to try not to sound super cheesy, but I'm a little sad this fic is over! It was my first try at writing Peterick and is probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written, so it was quite a challenge (but also not really because I seriously LOVED writing this). 
> 
> Thanks again to all of you for giving this a read, leaving comments and being encouraging the whole way through. I've said this before, but everyone in this fandom is super amazing and I love this community so much.


End file.
